


All You Need is One Thing

by MarmaladeSkies (HazardLights)



Category: One Direction (Band), The Beatles
Genre: 1960s, AU, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Hamburg, Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Smoking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 51,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazardLights/pseuds/MarmaladeSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1960s Beatles/One Direction crossover, set during the Hamburg years.<br/>Drug-induced, sex driven madness that features bloody fingers from playing too much guitar, bloody knuckles from too many fights, jealous band mates and absolutely no one talking about their feelings - that's not allowed!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NaNo 2013.  
> I basically just wanted to know what would happen if young John Lennon ever met young Louis Tomlinson. Thus, a fic was born.  
> [The timing of some events aren't always exact, I changed them to make them fit the story better. Hope it doesn't distract people too much!]
> 
> Tip: If you don't like One Direction or The Beatles, you're in the wrong neck of the woods.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters are my interpretations, I don't know what they are/were really like. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no libel intended.

**Hamburg, Germany (1961-1962)**

John didn’t like the look of Louis Tomlinson the second he laid eyes on him.

He looked too soft, with tuffs of feathery brown hair and a small curvy body. But then maybe it wasn’t his softness that John despised (he put up with baby-faced Paul and George after all) maybe it was the way that he stood with his feet wide apart, which made him appear shorter but more domineering. Maybe it was the fold of his arms, the arrogant tilt of his head, and the steadiness of his gaze that made John scowl around his pint. Or maybe it was the softness in his eyes when he looked at one of his band mates. Yeah John was right the first time, Louis Tomlinson looked too soft.

One Direction.

There were eight of them, far too many people; two guitarists, a drummer and five singers. They were too big for the stage, too big for this small pub if John let himself be honest, just big enough for the world.

“You five lads goin’ to dance for us then?” John called out and choruses of laughter broke out from pockets around the room.

The smallest stepped forward, just a stride but enough to put him in the forefront of the group. “Stick around and you might get lucky,” the boy said with a wink, his tone was inviting but his expression was a clear invitation to go and get well and truly fucked.

“Cheeky.” John said with a short laugh, but he relented when he saw that the boy was poised ready to lash out and John was sort of curious to hear them play.

They did an original song first. Something about wanting girls to be insecure because it made them easy or beautiful or some shit, John wasn’t really paying attention to the lyrics.

There were a lot of hand gestures and attempts at choreographed position changes, the curly haired one was particularly awful with the routine, tripping over his feet and almost falling backwards into the drum set.

The guitars and drumming were okay, the singing was marginally better but it was the reaction that made John uncomfortable. The girls were eating it up and a couple of the lads were even tapping along with the beat.

Thankfully, Stu saw through it all, “They don’t even play instruments; they just stand there like twats,” John nodded, looking at Paul expectantly.

“The blonde one plays guitar,” Paul offered helpfully, stubbing out his cigarette and looking around the pub with a bored expression.

“How do you reckon that?” John asked.

“Saw them play here before,” Paul said casually, keeping his gaze low.

“You like these guys,” John accused.

“They’re alright,” Paul shrugged.

“Christ Macca, might as well throw your bra and panties on the stage like the rest of the birds,” John spat. Stu laughed at his side, George looked cautiously between the two and Pete was watching the girls by the stage.

“Fuck off mate,” Paul said, though he lacked conviction, “I’m getting another beer,”

John let him go, turning back to the band on stage with a frustrated scowl. When they finished their set, the five singers all grouped together with a hug and when they started to pull away the smallest one and the curliest one stayed together in a tight embrace. John felt angry but it was strangely directed at Paul.

When the boys said their thanks, John paid attention as they said their names, but he was only going to remember Louis' for the time being.

 

The next time John saw Louis Tomlinson was a few nights later when they were scheduled to play after each other at the same pub. It annoyed John how quickly his band mates took to the five. Stu, the traitor bastard, was sitting in the corner talking to the dark haired quiff about art; George was sitting with the blonde tuning their guitar’s together and eating enough between them to feed an entire village; Ringo (who was hanging back stage after his set with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes) was standing with the curly one giggling to each other and pointing at things; while Pete and Paul were standing with Louis and the one that seemed utterly unremarkable to John.

John waited until Louis separated from the group and made his way towards the bathroom, “The women loved you last night,” John said, purposely standing in between Louis and the bog.

“They were sweet,” Louis said with an uneasy but coy smile.

“Sweet?” John echoed in disbelief, “They were acting like dirty whores; they would have let you fuck them on stage.”

“Don’t be crude,” Louis chastised, “they were nice girls and we appreciate their support,”

Louis looked completely unruffled; he actually looked bored, like John was some aunt asking him about school or some shit. “Maybe you were more keen on the blokes, aye?” John asked, keeping his voice low. Louis flinched slightly but didn’t otherwise react. “You were,” John declared, noticing Louis’ eyes flick around the room like a trapped animal seeking an exit.

“Look, I ain’t no poof,” Louis said in a tight voice.

John gave a humourless laugh. “Course not; you just pretend your curly mate is a bird while you fuck him up the arse,”

“Fuck you, and leave Harry out of this you prick,” Louis’ tone was low and dangerous and John knew he should drop it, but he couldn’t resist pushing a little further.

“Hit a nerve did I?” John proclaimed joyfully, tilting his head back to look down his nose at Louis.

Before John knew what was happening, Louis stepped real close to him, got right up in his face. John ignored the excited flutter his stomach gave. “You know what? I was going to stick around to hear your band play. But because you’re such a cunt, I doubt I’ll be sticking around at all,” Louis shoved him to the side and John was surprised at how much strength the little lad possessed.

John watched Louis push open the door to the bathroom and couldn’t hold back one final dig, “Means you can check out the local queer bar, eh?” John called after him, “Three doors down matey, that’s your area,”

Louis stopped, hand still keeping the door open, and looked back at John with a strange victorious grin, “And how do you know where it is? Frequent visitor, I bet.”

“Fuck off!” John shouted, feeling flustered and annoyed. John clenched his hands like he wanted to hit the boy, but John knew that Louis would hit back harder and John didn’t want a black eye for his show tonight. “Pansy.” He spat with a disgusted snarl before turning on his heel and walking away. _Fucking queer_ , John thought to himself, although who he was actually talking about was anyone’s guess.

 

As John and his band mates sat through One Direction’s set for the second night in a row, George gave John a brief history lesson about the boys’ initial meeting. John feigned disinterest, but was really hanging onto every word, collecting as much information about this band as possible.

“The five of them met at some talent competition thing,” George said around an unlit cigarette while he tapped his pockets for matches. “Apparently they were the last to individually perform, but they only had time for one more act. Instead of deciding between them on one solo act, they all got on stage together.” Pausing to light the end of his fag, George gave a small chuckle before launching back into his story, “They were awful, Niall told me, they didn’t know how to harmonise so they just sort of sang together, completely off pitch and out of key. They barely got to the chorus of the song before being ushered off the stage.” George took a puff of his fag and passed it over to John’s outstretched hand, “So they got pissed together that night and the next week they all got together and practised. After rallying together some mates to play instruments a new band was born.”

“Fascinating,” John said with a perfected bored tone, watching as Paul got up and made his way towards the bar, “Oi, get us a pint ya bastard,” John shouted after Paul’s retreating head, who gave John a quick affirming thumbs-up. John turned back to George, expression serious, “what I want to know is how these twats managed a bigger audience then us in only their first week.” It was John’s second time in Hamburg with his boys, and he recalled initially playing to near empty rooms and having to coax people into the bars they were playing in.

“Maybe because they don’t have a band mate who makes Hitler jokes and passes out half an hour into the gig,” George said, taking a triumphant sip of his pint, “and they don’t sound half bad,”

John wasn’t listening anymore, One Direction were finishing their gig and John was standing to collect his pint off Paul. John downed his entire glass in a couple of gulps before snatching Paul’s mostly full pint and doing the exact same thing, “Fucking hell Lennon, you owe me one ya prick.”

“Quit moaning, we’ve got a show to play,” John said, grabbing Paul’s upper arm and practically dragging him backstage.

Louis did end up sticking around after all. John saw him in the corner near the door, getting further from the exit and closer to the stage as the gig went on. John had to squint, because he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but Louis appeared to be smiling. Although why that observation registered in John’s brain, he couldn’t tell you.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis went three doors down from the Top Ten Club and found what he was looking for. The tiny bar was tucked into the side of an alley way and there was a man standing out the front. Louis recognised him as security. Louis cautiously made his way over to the man, head ducked low and shoulders slumped.

“Is th-this –” Louis stuttered and broke off as he came face to face with the man, “I mean do you have –” Louis stopped himself again. The man didn’t understand what Louis was trying to say, of course, but he must have sensed that Louis knew what was behind the door he was standing in front of.

The man gave him an appraising once over with a quirked eye brow. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, the man stood aside and let Louis pass through into the dark room. Music was the first thing he heard, loud music. He saw blinking lights and the movement of pulsating bodies vibrating against each other.

Males dancing with males. Females dancing with females.

Louis nearly collapsed with dizzying excitement. He was in a country where no one would recognise him, in a bar that catered for his exact needs. Louis would have to thank that John Lennon kid later for this. He wondered again how John even knew about this place. Usually bars like this relied on word of mouth; you had to ask the right people to find out. You had to actually seek these kinds of bars out because they don’t exactly go round advertising themselves. Could John have possibly been here before?

No one in the pub spoke English well, just a couple of broken sentences and simple words. That didn’t matter though, the music was too loud and it was the touching that Louis craved, not the talking.

Louis wasn’t surprised to find himself pushed up against a brick wall after only fifteen minutes of entering the building. He really needed this, it had been so long. Louis pushed his fingers into the stranger’s hair and was delighted to find curls, when he opened his eyes he saw thin lips and a wide nose so he closed his eyes again and let himself be touched and kissed.

Someone was speaking German to Louis and he was nodding back, didn’t care what he was agreeing to just not wanting to do anything that discouraged the roaming hands. Louis felt himself be pulled away somewhere and soon he was stumbling backwards into a bathroom, lips attached to his and hands on his hips.

Louis didn’t like this bit. He had never been with a gentle lover and it never got him off fully, most of the time they would finish Louis off with their mouth or hands but sometimes Louis would be abandoned and left rock hard with a sore arse. This man was one of the kind ones, taking Louis into his mouth afterwards and letting Louis find his release too.

The night didn’t end there. Louis returned to the bar, ordered more beer and spent the next few hours on the dance floor spinning from guy to guy and receiving so much physical affection he felt like he was flying. For the first time, Louis was allowed to be openly and intimately touched by men, and before the end of the night he discovered that it was okay for him to touch them as well.

Louis stumbled out of the bar close to 6am and stood in the middle of the alleyway, swaying slightly like a bottle of water in a breeze. He blinked at the horizon and caught sight of the dawn breaking the back of the darkness to bring forth a new day. A good day, Louis decided, a good day.

A good day that lasted ten minutes, that lasted the time between exiting the bar and catching sight of a loitering John Lennon across the road.

John was squinting at the small crowd that was forming in front of the pub and it occurred to Louis that John mustn’t be able to see him. Louis remembered back to John squinting at him at the club when he stayed behind to watch John’s band perform. _John must be near blind_ , Louis thought, _wonder why he doesn’t wear glasses_.

Not wanting to be seen by John and listen to the prick gloat about how right he was about Louis being queer, the small boy slunk off down the alley way in the other direction. After drunkenly trudging across someone’s back lawn and through to their front gate, Louis somehow managed to find his way back to the shitty hotel him and his band mates were staying at.

Louis knocked on the door of the room he was supposed be sharing with Harry. After only two knocks, Harry’s dishevelled and worried face appeared. “Louis,” he said breathlessly grinning from ear to ear, “Where the fuck have you been?” The change in Harry’s tone and expression was so quick that it nearly sent Louis reeling backwards. The sound of his best mate shouting brought attention to his awful headache and stomach-ache and arse-ache and Louis was on the verge of crying because why was he being punished after having such a great night? “You’ve been drinking,” Harry accused, reaching to pull Louis inside the hotel room by his shoulders.

Louis did start crying then, dropping to the ground and sitting hunched over. He simultaneously wanted to move to the toilet and vomit; stay here and sob; crawl into bed and sleep for a week; and bash his head against the hard floor to put himself out of his misery. Harry appeared to change tactics, “Come on love, get up and I’ll take you to the bathroom,” he said kindly, rubbing Louis on the back with one hand and putting his other under Louis’ arm to help lift him.

Louis moved willingly but slowly. When he saw the toilet he sank to his knees so quickly he almost stuck his head right into the bowl. After a few minutes of stomach evacuating, he stumbled up with the help of Harry to steady him. Washing out his mouth and cleaning his teeth proved difficult, though with Harry’s help he managed to get the job done. Then Louis stripped himself off and got under the covers of his bed wearing only his briefs. “You’re a good friend Harry,” Louis said, speech slurring only slightly as his eyes fluttered closed, “I love you, you know,” he said as an afterthought, still not opening his eyes.

Louis missed Harry’s sad smile and soft, “same here mate”, as he fell into a deep slumber.

 

Someone was sitting on him, Louis realised as he blinked back into consciousness. Keeping one eye closed, he looked up at his immaculate looking best mate, “Piss of Zayn!” Louis cried, rolling over and nearly causing Zayn to tip off the bed and take the duvet with him.

Zayn gave Louis a quick punch in the leg before ripping the blankets entirely off the bed. Zayn ignored Louis’ indignant cry as he sat back down on the bed. “You fucking stink man,” Zayn said, shoving Louis over so that he could lie on his back in the tiny single bed.

Louis heard Harry’s voice from the next bed, “He would have drowned himself in two inches of water last night, given the state he was in,” Louis knew that Harry was glaring at him, but he was probably more concerned than anything. Harry worried about all of them; sometimes he could be worse than Liam in that aspect.

“What time is it?” Louis asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and adjusting himself next to the warmth of Zayn’s shoulder.

Someone sighed. “4 o’clock in the afternoon, two hours till our set,” Harry answered.

“I don’t know if I can do the show tonight,” Louis said in a small fractured voice, already hating himself for his admittance. Louis’ throat felt like he’d been storing rocks in it and he was too afraid to move in case he were sick all over himself, maybe if he judged it right he could aim for  Zayn.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Harry said. Louis could hear the boy get off of his bed and stand over Louis’. “You selfish prick, how could you ruin this chance by being so –”

“Harry, why don’t you piss off for a bit, yeah?” Zayn said, sitting up and putting his hand on Harry’s chest.

Harry was going to object but Louis looked pleadingly at him and he conceded with a sigh. “Fine,” he said, looking at Zayn, “You fucking deal with him.” With that Harry turned away and Louis expected the door to be slammed shut but it was closed softly instead. Louis figured it was because Harry didn’t want to add to his headache, Louis was grateful. Trust Harry to be conscientious even when mad.

“Right, you prat,” Zayn said after a beat, “Get the fuck up and go have a shower,” Louis moved languidly stretching his arms and legs out, feeling his muscles spasm and his arsehole clench painfully. “I have a gift for you afterwards,” Zayn added, standing by the door to light a cigarette.

“What gift?” Louis asked curiously, moving like a zombie to the bathroom. Zayn didn’t answer just nodded towards the shower, “Arsehole,” Louis said over his shoulder as he passed through the door.

Washed and slightly more awake, Louis came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and wet hair plastered across his forehead. “Alright, I’m clean,” he announced.

Zayn turned from where he had been staring out the front window. Louis took a moment to appreciate his mate’s beauty and grace, he couldn’t help himself. Zayn was the only person that Louis knew who could pull off wearing a leather jacket without looking like a twat or some mental Teddy boy. Louis had never seen a boy like Zayn. A boy that was pretty but manly at the same time. A lot of people pinned Zayn as being a mysterious bad boy, but Louis knew that he was more than that and people only stayed mysteries when you didn’t take the time to understand them.

Zayn reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear packet of tablets. He was watching Louis carefully, checking his expression, “Stu told me about these,” Zayn said taking a couple pills out and placing them in the middle of his palm, “him and his band mates take them before gigs, keeps them going all night,” Zayn held them out for Louis.

Louis just stared at them, “What are they?”

“Stu calls them prellies, fuck knows what’s in ‘em,” Zayn shrugged, “I just know that they work,” Louis was about to object, tell Zayn he could stick them up his own arse but Zayn put his hand on Louis’ shoulder and shook him a bit. “Mate, you look like shit, you won’t last the gig and we need you.”

Louis knew it was true, knew that he wouldn’t make it through the whole set without taking something. It wasn’t like Louis was against using drugs, he’d dabbled quite a bit back at home, it was just that he didn’t want to have to rely on them.

There was a knock at the door, “I’m back, and I brought a peace offering,” It was Harry. It was Harry politely knocking to get back into his own hotel room. “Hint: it’s food.”

Zayn held up his hand and dropped the pills into Louis’ open palm. “Get in here you git,” Zayn shouted over his shoulder.

Harry stumbled in, tripping over the worn out carpet a little, and threw a brown paper bag at Louis, “It’s a ham and cheese sandwich. It was the only thing that didn’t have shit growing on it.”

“Thanks mate,” Louis said with a smile, putting his arm around Harry and squeezing him.

An hour before their gig that night Louis downed the two prellies and caught sight of John who was sitting front and centre with his band mates and a few birds. Seeing John brought on another wave of exhaustion and Louis was thankful that he had the prellies to keep him going.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis Tomlinson was on fire tonight, not literally of course (unless you count that moment he dropped a cigarette down his front and burnt a small hole in his shirt). John watched as Louis marched back and forth on the stage; thrusting, winking at girls and smiling like he was king of the fucking world and too good for it all.

John wasn’t the only one watching, he observed with irritation. The girls sitting around him were also tracking Louis’ movements across the stage. Some of them had their hands flat on the table as they shook their hair wildly and rolled their hips forward in their seats. It was fucking unreal. John didn’t know where to look. Beautiful women were unravelling and losing their minds but Louis was the most captivating thing in the room.

Louis made jokes and told stories, commanding attention from everybody in the room without really demanding it. John felt his early dislike of the boy boil up in his chest.

The band was being cheeky tonight. They sang a song with a lyric “I want you to rock me” and John was sure he heard Louis’ voice sing “fuck me” at some point. Louis kept signalling towards the curly one to get him to change certain lyrics, meaning that the line “have some fun tonight” from Long Tall Sally became “have some nun tonight” which made Paul grin and every other English-speaking person in the room do a bit of a double take.

After the show, John found Louis close to midnight, the boy was using a bar stool to hold himself steady. He was looking down his empty glass like the secrets of the universe were inscribed on the bottom. And then the boy dropped it, the glass fell clean from his hand, not a bump nor a knock caused it, Louis just lost his grip. The curly one was nearby. He swooped in, put his hand on Louis’ shoulder and told some lie to the girl across the bar in order to avoid getting them kicked out. John could tell the exact moment the curly boy winked, because the barmaid’s face lit up like a fucking firecracker a few seconds later. While curly got distracted by the pretty blonde, Louis slinked away, unnoticed by the pair.

Halfway to the bathroom, John stood in front of Louis like he had done yesterday. Louis didn’t really react this time, just sort of giggled and tried to side step John, unaware that John had stood in front of him on purpose. John followed Louis’ movements to the right and then back to the left again. Louis was giggling uncontrollably now, like a child playing peekaboo.

John gave an amused grin, “Christ, you’ve had one too many bevvies mate,”

“Don’t care,” Louis said through bursts of giggles. John was completely unprepared for a quick movement and lips to be pressed right against his ear, “I’m going back to that bar, you know the one, three doors down,” Louis whispered before pulling away with his index finger swaying in front of his pursed lips, giving a jerky “shh” sign.

John was shocked. “You were there last night? I didn’t see –” he cut himself off, not wanting to let Louis know that he was checking up on him. John didn’t really want to face up to the fact that he stood across the road from a gay bar, hoping only to spot Louis’ face in the crowd.

“I was there, yes,” Louis admitted with a lazy nod, “and now I’m going back.”

John stared in disbelief. “You’re wrecked mate; just go back to your hotel.”

Louis huffed and rolled his eyes, “Thanks for the advice _mum_ , but I’m going back to the bar,”

“I don’t fucking think so,” John growled, gripping Louis’ upper arms, “those shirt lifters will eat you alive in your current state,”

Louis pouted, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Louis attempted to shake off John’s grip, but he was clumsy and weak from the drink.

John held him still, tightening his grip on the boy, “You’re not going anywhere. I’m calling that posh twat over to take you back to your room,”

“Not Liam,” Louis whined, throwing his head back with a frustrated groan, “he can be such a fun-sponge,”

“The toffee-nosed prat probably just needs to get laid,” John said under his breath.

Louis was scowling now, shoving John half-heartedly, “Oi, fuck off, he’s not a toff,”

“Alright, alright,” John said, letting go of Louis to hold his hands out defensively.

Louis went to move around John again, but John mimicked his movement and blocked him. “Please let me go,” Louis said, shoulders slumped forward dejectedly, “I-I need it. Just. Please.” Louis was proper begging now; the stupid prick would have gotten down on his knees if it got him what he wanted. _Getting down on his knees_ is _probably what he wants_ , the spiteful part of John spat.

“You ain’t going alone,” John said.

Louis looked up with a hopeful expression, “Come with me then,”

“I’m no queer,” John replied firmly, running his fingers through his hair and looking over Louis’ head at the crowds by the bar. He should be over there, chatting to women and lining one up for a shag.

Louis stepped closer again, and John inadvertently swayed towards him, “Why were you out the front of the bar last night then?” Fuck, the kid knew. John felt a spike of terror settle behind his sternum and he unconsciously brushed his fingers against that spot. John didn’t like that feeling, he usually got it when Mimi would scold him for lying about taking her cigarettes or something, it was the feeling of someone else calling out his bullshit.

“You want to go, fine,” John said tightly, “Let’s rock’n’roll,” he grabbed Louis by the wrist and dragged him out into the street.

As soon as they got outside, the cold air hit Louis hard and he stumbled around a bit trying to find his footing on the uneven pavement, “You’ve got to at least act sober you tosser,” John whispered harshly, still pulling Louis by his wrist.

Louis grinned mockingly and tipped an imaginary hat in John’s direction. “How do you do good sir?” He was speaking slowly enough so that it was impossible for him to slur his words but entirely possible for anyone to figure out that he was either drunk or had suffered from a severe brain injury.

John sighed. “Don’t say a bloody word, just put your arm around my waist and at least keep your eyes open,” John commanded, putting his arm around Louis’ shoulders to give the lad something to lean on.

They got inside the bar easily enough. Under the cloak of heavy music and comfortable darkness, John felt predatory. Louis made a bee line for the dance floor and John let him do what he needed to do. At the bar, John witnessed two seedy guys attempt to put something in an unsuspecting strangers drink. _Not my problem_ , John thought as he bought a pint of beer, _not my fucking problem, don’t cause a scene or you’ll get you’re queer arse thrown out._

John took a seat at the bar and turned so he had the perfect view of Louis. If John thought that Louis was something special on the stage that night, it was nothing compared to Louis on a dance floor. The golden-skinned beauty was twisting and sliding against whatever body he was nearest too, John was once again captivated by the boy.

When a stranger sat next to John and dropped a hand on his thigh, he wasted no time downing the rest of his drink and pulling the stranger into a dark corner of the pub. John roughly pushed the boy to the ground by his shoulders, “suck,” he commanded, pulling his cock out and presenting it to the stranger. It wasn’t the greatest blow job, but at least the boy was eager and enthusiastic. When the boy stood up, he was clutching his crotch and looking at John expectantly, “You’re about to learn an important lesson, son,” John said as he lightly slapped the boy on the cheek a couple of times, “don’t expect return favours, sometimes people leave you with your balls aching,” _I would know_ , John thought to himself as he zipped himself up and walked away.

On his way back to the bar, John scanned the crowd and when he didn’t immediately spot Louis he panicked. Barging straight through the middle of the dance floor, John surveyed the crowd from the inside. Not finding anything, he checked the bathroom with a sick wrenching feeling in his gut. John kicked open every door and found only surprised and angry faces that weren’t Louis’. Moving quickly back out to the bar, John scanned the room a final time before deciding that Louis must have left the building.

Stumbling outside and reaching the top of the alleyway, John caught sight of three fuzzy shapes heading up the road. It was dark but John could tell something was wrong with how the three people were moving. The one in the middle didn’t appear to be taking any steps and the two surrounding him seemed to be dragging the middle one too fast, as if trying to make a quick getaway.

John chased after them and as he got closer, he was able to make out the striped shirt he remembered Louis wearing. “Oi!” John yelled out when he was only a few paces behind them, “You fucks, let him go!”

One of the men turned around and John recognised him instantly. He was one of the creeps at the bar putting shit in people’s drinks, the ones that John left alone because it _wasn’t his problem_. They moved faster, lifting Louis practically off the ground. When John finally got close enough, he reached out and hauled one of the guys off of Louis, threw him to the ground and proceeded to punch his face in. The other man was struggling to hold up what was essentially dead weight so eventually he gave up and Louis collapsed to the ground in a pile of limbs. Luckily Louis avoided bashing his head against the pavement by landing on his outstretched arm.

“Fuck this shit,” the man who dropped Louis said and took off down the road.

John lifted the other bloke up by his collar, spat in his bloodied face and shoved him in his mate’s direction, “you can fuck off too, you piece of shit,” he said with a swift kick up the backside that nearly sent the guy toppling forward.

John walked over to Louis’ body and crouched down by his side. The boy’s chest was rising and falling, so he was still alive, but he was totally unresponsive to John’s shoves. “You’re still a fucking twat, even if when you are unconscious,” John murmured, before gazing around the quiet street to see if there was anyone who could help him. Resigning himself to defeat, John braced himself before lifting Louis up bridal style, “fuck you’re a heavy little thing,” John wheezed, stumbling forward a bit but managed to regain his footing.

Arriving outside the hotel he heard the One Direction boys were staying at, he dumped Louis outside the closest door, knocked three times and then bolted. Hiding in the bushes, John watched as the curly one opened the door and looked momentarily confused before he noticed a Louis-shaped pile on the doorstep, “Louis!” The boy cried, falling to the ground and immediately checking for a pulse. Satisfied with what he found, the boy jumped up and ran a couple of doors down and knocked frantically. A few moments later, the blonde one and the artsy git that Stu wouldn’t shut up about came to help curly lift Louis into the room. Pleased with his good charity for the night, John made his way back to his own hotel room, hands in his pockets and whistling tunelessly.


	4. Chapter 4

John had pretty dramatic mood swings, Louis would soon discover.

Louis found out which hotel John was staying in and went round the next afternoon. John saw him and answered with a short, “what do you want?” He looked annoyed, like Louis was the last person he had wanted to see that day.

“I just wanted to thank you and whatever,” Louis said, not quite meeting John’s gaze, whether out of embarrassment or fear, he wasn’t sure. “Harry said I turned up on the doorstep and I know that the last thing I remember was sharing an awkward drink with two guys who made me feel very uncomfortable,” Louis did meet John’s gaze then. “I just want to thank you for whatever you did and getting me back safe.”

John’s expression swiftly changed to something that almost resembled fury. “Let’s get something straight,” he said, forcefully jabbing his middle finger into Louis’ chest, “I wasn’t with you last night. You went alone and you left alone,” John held Louis’ chin tightly between his thumb and index finger forcing Louis to maintain eye contact with John, “and I spent my night with a beautiful German girl I picked up after my gig. Now piss off.” And with that, the door was slammed in Louis’ face.

Louis supposed he was right the first time, John was a prick.

 

“They were twins Zayn, GERMAN TWINS,” Louis heard Niall say when he walked through the door to his hotel room. “Fit as fuck and dirtier than any of those girls back in Ireland or Britain. They even finished each other off, two beautiful identical women finger fucking each other till they screamed,” Niall paused to stuff the rest of the contents of a packet of crisps in his mouth, “I fucking love Hamburg,” he said, food still in his mouth. “I’m never going home.”

“We’ve got the whole world to conquer lad, don’t go laying your roots down yet,” Louis said, making his way over to Harry’s bed, “Budge up,” he said, Harry was already moving before Louis said anything. Harry was taking lazy puffs from a rolled up joint, looking a little light headed. Louis loved how quickly Harry reacted to the dope, “Give us a spliff?” Louis asked as he took the joint from Harry’s outstretched hand.

Louis settled his back against the headboard, and comfortably rested his shoulder against Harry’s. It was a small bed, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to fit two people into one before. “What happened last night?” Harry whispered, low enough so the other boys couldn’t hear over their own chatter.

“Went out, got pissed, came back to the hotel, knocked on the door, passed out,” Louis answered vaguely, not wanting to have this conversation.

Harry plucked the spliff back out of Louis’ hand, “You sure it didn’t have anything to do with you asking for John’s hotel room this morning?”

“No,” Louis answered childishly, “I just had an overwhelming urge to go and see him,” Louis knew it was a lame excuse but he also knew that Harry wouldn’t pester him about it.

“Okay,” Harry conceded with a sigh, “The kid is a bit of a twat though,” he added, passing the joint back to Louis.

“That we agree on,” Louis said with a snort, looking sidelong at Harry and smiling around the spliff.

Tuning back into the conversation around him, Louis heard the boys talking about what they were going to do with their few hours free this afternoon. It sounded like they were planning on making an escape from the hotel and going on a venture round Hamburg. Louis was in; Louis was always up for anything.

Hamburg was a black hole of music, drugs and sex. You had to keep moving or else it would pull you in and prevent you from escaping. Louis could see them all around him, the ones that came to Hamburg and got stuck. Maybe they were like Niall and convinced themselves it was a better life, maybe they simply ran out of money or maybe they originally came to Hamburg to get away and threw themselves willingly into the abyss.

World War II had left the city of Hamburg reduced to mere rubble due to bombing raids. By 1960, the city that had once been Germany’s main seaport was a cesspool of booze, prostitutes and criminal activity. It was not what the boys of One Direction were used to, but they were all fascinated by the seedy nature of the place.

They walked into a record shop first. They had very little money, which they didn’t often complain about so long as there was enough for hotel rooms, booze and the occasional hooker. Even Louis had indulged in one of the ladies of the night; a mouth was a mouth after all.

Browsing the shelves for potential gems, Louis nudged Liam with his shoulder, “Put this down your trousers.” he whispered, holding out a record.

“No way mate,” Liam shook his head, looking aghast, “I’ll just buy it for you.”

Louis wasn’t having that. “Put it down your trousers,” he said again, taking another few records and doing the same. Louis threw a quick look over at the bored clerk before looking back at Liam, “loosen up, and have some fun. Stolen records always sound better anyway, the same way drinks you don’t pay for taste better,” Louis held the record back out to Liam, lips pursed with unwavering determination. “Take it.”

Liam did take it and looked shyly around the shop before carefully tucking it into his trousers. Liam may as well have walked around the shop with a sign on his head that read “CHECK MY TROUSERS I’M A THEIF!” He looked so guilty, hands constantly fiddling with the front of his jeans and eyes flicking around the room nervously.

“Watch this,” Niall said, who had been standing nearby and watching the scene unfold with an amusing grin. Patting Louis on the shoulder, Niall walked casually up to Liam, who was in the corner shakily picking up records and reading the back. Getting right up close to his side, Niall gripped Liam’s upper arm and cried “you’re nicked,” with a slow heavy cockney accent.

Even though they were in Germany and none of the coppers spoke English (never mind had English accents), Liam jumped out of his skin and nearly hit Niall in the face out of fear. Niall started laughing, which set off Harry and Zayn who were standing nearby. “You’re such a prick,” Liam said harshly, pulling out the record from his jeans and flinging it at Niall’s face.

The clerk who was watching the commotion saw Liam’s movements and started pointing at him and yelling in German. None of the boys could understand a word, but they knew it didn’t sound good. When the clerk stood up and pointed at the other boy’s jeans, Louis figured out what was up and shouted, “Fuck, run!”

Zayn was the first to leg it, followed by Niall and Harry. Louis had to grab Liam’s wrist and pull him out of the shop. Running up the road and turning down the nearest street, they all leaned against the nearest wall, wheezing and laughing.

“That was fucking close,” Niall said, resting his head back against the wall and breathing out a sigh of relief.

“You stupid arse,” Louis chastised Liam lightly, but he gave a small smile to show there wasn’t any heat in his words, “you tossed a perfectly good record away.”

“It was only some naff country singer” Liam argued, turning his back on Louis, “Besides, I got this instead,” Liam said spinning back around, pulling the zipper down of his jacket and presenting Louis with Chuck Berry’s newest record.

“You sneaky bastard!” Louis cried, smiling in disbelief.

“Aye,” Liam said through a smile and Louis pushed off the wall to wrestle him into a great big hug.

“We’ll make a little deviant out of you yet, son,” Louis said messing up the boy’s hair. He snatched the record out of Liam’s hand and took off in a sprint down the road towards the seaport.

“Oi, give that back!” Liam shouted, chasing after Louis. The rest of the boys followed after them, laughing and egging Louis on with cheers.

When they got down to the port, they sat with their legs dangling over the edge above the water. Louis pulled out the records from his pants and proceeded to toss all the shite records into the dock. Niall and Zayn did the same with their stolen goods and Harry hovered behind them trying to light his fag.

“Keep that one,” Harry said, cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth as he put his hand on Louis’ arm mid-throw.

Louis checked the record again; _At Home with Screamin' Jay Hawkins_ , the record cover had a bright orange background with a black man sitting on the floor wearing a funny hat. There was a telephone, a vase and some fruit randomly placed around him. “It looks like a poxy album, mate,”

“Nah, my mum loves ‘im,” Harry said, plucking the record out of Louis hand to examine it, “come on, let’s find a café and I’ll play it for ya,” Harry said as he lightly tapped the record on the top of Louis’ head. Louis caught himself smiling stupidly up at the boy.

“Alright,” Louis said, standing up and brushing the dirt of his trousers, “let’s go lads,”

 

Louis did like the record. They all got to the café and Harry immediately charmed the lady behind the counter to play the album for them. By the time a song called ‘I Put a Spell on You’ came on, Harry was swaying his cute little hips to the beat and pulling Zayn in towards him. Zayn took Harry’s hand and spun the boy around before bringing him close with a palm pressed to Harry’s lower back. Louis felt a flare of something hot and dangerous in his chest, and had to force himself to look away.

In the corner, Niall had some bird in his lap and was kissing her so fiercely that Louis felt a little embarrassed. Liam was talking to the waitress behind the counter; his cheeks were flushed the way they always were when he was talking to new girls. When Louis looked back to the pair in the middle of the room he caught eyes with Harry who flashed him a brief smile before Zayn gained his attention by squeezing his butt and laughing into his neck.

There was commotion in the corner as some man towered over Niall and the girl he was just snogging. He was speaking in German and Niall was looking more and more bewildered, until the man put his arm around the girl’s waist. That shook Niall out of his confusion long enough to jump out of his seat and slink off out of the café. Louis, Liam, Zayn and Harry all found Niall outside who was wearing a distant but mischievous smile. “Back at home I would have been beaten within an inch of my life. I reckon the men here are more flattered than anything when you snog their birds.”

Louis patted Niall on the back, “You’re going to get yourself into trouble one day, shag the wrong lass or something,” Louis was grinning at his mate. He had never met anyone as obsessed with muff as Niall. He always seemed to be scouting out the local talent in bars and he rarely proved unsuccessful in his endeavours. Louis had to hand it to him; the young chap was a certified lady-killer.

Silently, they all head back to their hotel. They were walking close with their arms wrapped around each other, passing their last cigarette between them. Niall was telling dirty jokes and talking about some bird he had last night but Louis couldn’t really focus on much else but Harry’s thumb that was dragging slowly across his hip. Zayn accidently stepped in a hole in the road and dragged the rest of the boys down to the ground with him.

As they all laid on top of each other in a mess of limbs, laughing and lazily shoving each other, Louis thought about how he wanted to weave these memories into a blanket. He wanted to make them into something that would keep him warm on the cold nights, or even turn them into something he could wear around his neck like a cape and stand on top of tall buildings feeling invincible. Louis loved his boys so much.


	5. Chapter 5

John fucking hated his band mates sometimes. Paul could be such an arrogant, thoughtless prick. They were supposed to be working on a song today but Paul was nowhere in sight. John could only guess where Paul was, probably tangled in the sheets with some German prostitute. They were paid last night and money didn’t seem to last long around here.

Paul came sauntering into the hotel room an hour late. John could tell from the state of Paul what the prat had been doing. His eyes had that glazed distant sort of look, there was a smirk hanging off the edge of his mouth and his lips were shiny and puffy like he had been kissing and muff diving for the last few hours.

“You’d do anything for a cunt,” John sneered as the younger boy brought his guitar over to where John was sitting.

“Christ, lay off will ya, you sound like Dot,” Paul chastised, sitting down on the chair across from John and laid his guitar flat across his lap to inspect the strings.

“I’m not your fucking girlfriend Paul, you can’t bend me over and fuck me when you please,” John said harshly, “I’m your band mate; your song writing partner. _Fuck_ , you can be such a useless twat sometimes,” John was furious, he hadn’t been this mad in a long while. He was sure that it was the Tomlinson bastard that set him off this morning, fucking prat coming over and talking to him like they were buddies now.

“Sorry John, I just – I’m sorry,” Paul sighed, running the palms of both hands along the strings of his guitar, before looking up at John, “Where have you been the last few nights anyway? Dripping wet German snatch everywhere, I needed my right hand man,” Paul was smirking and John knew it was supposed to be friendly banter but it pissed him off even more.

“I was out with a mate,” John said curtly.

“A mate?” Paul said, sounding confused, “Who?” _That’s right Paul, I hang out with other people too you know,_ John thought bitterly.

“Louis Tomlinson,” he answered, and then paused, “not _actually_ a mate,”

“From One Direction?” Paul asked, positioning his guitar so he could get ready to play it, “The camp one with the great arse?”

“Aye,” John said with a smirk, “took him out for a good time, lined us up a couple of birds and went back to theirs,” Lying got easier the more John did it, even lying to Paul. Pretty Paulie and his trustworthy attitude and loyalty to John, he’d never question him. John thought that it was probably mostly out of fear of being yelled at, but either way John appreciated how dutiful Paul could be.

“Ready?” Paul said, holding the neck of his guitar with his right hand and let his left hand hover over the strings. There were few things that John enjoyed more than sitting across from Paul while they played guitar together. It was something about Paul being left handed, something about the way he held the guitar. It felt like looking into a mirror and it made John think that maybe they weren’t as different as everyone thought.

 

The Beatles were backstage with One Direction again. Ringo was lingering behind after playing his gig with Rory and the Hurricanes. John had asked him to play their set piece tonight and told Pete not to bother turning up. “Fuck the contract, Ringo, that Rory cunt can stick it up his own arsehole for all I care,”

John and Paul had cornered Ringo, who was sitting casually behind his drum set and smoking a cigarette, “A contract’s a contract. I’m stuck lads,”

“Ringo,” John hummed, voice slurring from the drink as he leaned heavily against Paul. “I want you in my fuckin’ band,” he practically growled.

“I know,” Ringo said kindly, giving a soft smile, “got to stick with the routine gigs for now though,”

John pushed off from Paul and leaned over the drum kit to get close to Ringo, “Then you’ll leave?” He rested his hands on one of the drums and squinted at the odd looking drummer.

“I’ll think about it,” Ringo said indifferently, tapping his sticks softly on the drums in front of him.

If John wasn’t so keen on having the lad in the band he would have popped him one then and there for being such a conceited fuck. “Don’t play hard to get luv,” John warned, but he was smiling, sure that Ringo would come to him eventually, “don’t get stuck with that Rory Storm prick, he’s going nowhere fast,”

Paul put his hand on John’s shoulder and pulled him back slightly so that he could meet Ringo’s gaze, “we need you Ritch, Pete is fucking awful and we want the best drummer in Liverpool,” Paul fluttered his eye lashes and sent Ringo a mischievous smirk. John loved seeing his mate like this, the determined flirt that could sweet talk his way into getting whatever he wanted.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Ringo conceded with a small chuckle and a slight blush, Paul tended to have that effect on both males and females alike, “now fuck off while I practice, you tits,”

Leaving Paul and his band mates, John snuck out from backstage and sought out the bar. The barmaid gave him another pint of beer and pushed 4 prellies across the table at him. John gulped them all down at once and finished off his drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “thanks luv,” he said, winking at the lass.

When John returned backstage, he saw that his band mates were all paired up with One Direction again. Ringo was still at his drum set, except this time the curly one was sitting behind the drums and horrendously beating them with no rhythm whatsoever. Ringo was laughing as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

George and the blonde were hogging the food plate and snarling at anyone who came near. They sat on the floor, rubbing their stomachs and talking jovially. They were the loudest two in the room. It surprised John how vocal George could be; he was usually so timid and meek. Maybe it was him; John had a tendency to coerce people into being compliant.

Paul was standing in the middle of the room talking to the toff in the plaid shirt. They were talking about whatever posh twats talked about, their hair or something. John role played the conversation in his head. The toff: “I spent 30 minutes on this ‘do, doesn’t it look perfectly like I just rolled out of bed?” Paul: “It really does, I took over the bathroom and made John piss outside because I wanted to make my hair look elegantly dishevelled.” Both: “Har har har.” Twats.

Stu and the quiff were in the corner leaning over some artsy magazine pointing and talking in hushed voices. John knew that Stu was planning on leaving the Beatles soon, especially now that he was cosied up to that German bird Astrid. John knew that Paul was itching to get rid of Stu; he wouldn’t shut up about how the lad was holding them back. It all eventually came to a head one night a few weeks back when Paul said something rude about Astrid and the two ended up in a scuffle on stage. The two avoided each other now. These days, John was just waiting for Stu to leave and choose the German photographer over him. Until then, he would put up with the shite bass playing to keep his mate close.

John was standing to the side, just watching. He noticed the way that Louis moved from group to group, seeming to fit in straight away and becoming whatever was needed of him. Louis stood behind curly; hand resting in the crease between his neck and shoulder, helping him by hitting the cymbals. Louis quickly engaged in the conversation between Paul and the toff, putting his arm around his mate and making them both laugh. Louis snuck up on George and the blonde, talking to them as he stole a couple of mini sandwiches. Louis even managed to engage Stu and quiff in their artsy speak, flicking through the magazine and making comments.

John noticed as Louis took Zayn to the side and he watched as the pair spoke intensely before Zayn took something small out of his back pocket and discreetly handed it to Louis, who smiled and pat Zayn on the shoulder.

Of course, it didn’t escape John’s notice that Louis completely avoided him. It annoyed him almost as much as it pleased him. John wanted Louis’ attention but didn’t want to go out of his way to seek it.

After each of their respective sets, both bands made their way to another bar. John tried to stay as far away from Louis as possible. Paul must have noticed the hostility between them because he saddled up next to John, passed him a smoke and said, “had a falling out with your _mate_?” he asked mockingly, watching John carefully.

“Not a mate,” John corrected, deliberately bumping his shoulder into Paul as he sped up to walk next to Stu. “So, when are you goin’ to fuck off then?” John asked, unfairly letting out all his anger on Stu.

“John I –” Stu said before cutting himself off. He started again with a sigh, “I’m not a musician. You know it, I know it, you’re poncy mate _Pauline_ knows it, the cunt,” Stu put his arm around John’s shoulders, “I’m not leaving _you_ mate, I’m just leaving the _band_. You’re going to make it big John, you all are and I’m just holding you back.” Stu squeezed John’s shoulder and smiled softly.

John felt his anger fading. Stu always had that effect on him, a calming effect. “Right,” John nodded, not looking at Stu, “you’re out of the band,” John said curtly, but he felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth.

This was what they needed. John needed to let Stu go, because he knew that Stu wouldn’t hurt John by leaving. They both knew that Stu didn’t belong in the band anymore. Things were getting serious and John had to think about the betterment of his band and there was not a space for Stu.

“If you say so John,” Stu replied, patting John on the back.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis had his elbows resting backwards against the bar as a very tall and very attractive man leaned over him and spoke softly into his ear. The man was from America, and touching Louis in ways that signalled that he was on the same wavelength as Louis.

Louis didn’t necessarily want to do anything with this stranger but he enjoyed the attention and the lad was certainly fit. The man was named Allen and he was a writer, a poet to be exact. The way he spoke left Louis a little breathless, he was stringing sentences together as if they were made of silk, crafting them into beautiful things that made Louis’ knees feel week.

Next thing, Allen suddenly stumbled forward into Louis and a distinct scouser accent was heard behind him saying, “Excuse me,” with mock politeness as none other than John-wanker-Lennon continued to elbow Allen out of the way to get closer to the bar, “pardon me,”

“John,” Louis greeted curtly, nodding his head.

“ _Lewis_ ,” John said with a sneer before turning to the Allen, “fuck off,”

“John!” Louis said, appalled, sending an apologising look to the American gentleman.

Allen grinned back at Louis, but his eyes were tight with irritation, “We should go somewhere else,” he said, holding his hand out to Louis.

“No, he’s staying right ‘ere,” John snarled, standing fully between Louis and Allen. Having John so close to him, meant that Louis could practically smell the booze leaking from the man’s pores. _Great, a drunken John, just what I fucking need,_ Louis thought already aware of how unpredictable John could be while drunk.

Allen was fully glaring at John now, gearing himself up to say something but Louis knew that John could easily turn this into a physical fight in no time at all, “Go,” Louis insisted Allen, not wanting a fight on his hands, especially not somewhere so public, “I’ll – erm – catch up with you later,”

Allen stared pleadingly at Louis, but eventually realised it was a lost cause. He backed away from the two lads and disappeared into the packed crowd.

John lumbered up and stood close to Louis’ side but didn’t make eye contact with the smaller boy, keeping his gaze set forward, “What the fuck was that for?” Louis whispered harshly, pulling on John’s arm to get the boy to look at him.

“This isn’t a fag bar,” John whispered back, though his tone had a slight accusatory infliction, “you pull shit like that and they’ll chase you out with a broom,”

“I knew what I was doing,” Louis said defensively.

“You’re prick knew what it was doing,” John mocked, nodding sharply to Louis’ crotch.

“Fuck off,” Louis said and pushed away from the bar.

John grabbed him by the forearm and spun Louis back to face him, “Wait,” he said, before lowering his voice and murmuring into Louis’ ear, “Are you going back tonight?”

Louis sighed and jerked backwards, freeing himself from John’s grasp but still staying close, “I don’t know John. I think I just want to sleep tonight,”

“Pussy,” John spat.

Louis snorted, “No thank you, not my area of expertise,” he said, smirking up at John.

“I know you want to, _queer_ ,” John pressed, grabbing Louis’ arm again.

While the area around the bar was tightly packed, Louis was only aware of John’s touch, the hard press of John’s body against his side. Louis had another spontaneous urge to ask John again how he knew about this bar, who told him about it, whether John had to ask, and most importantly whether he had been there before. Instead of saying anything though, Louis just nodded, because John’s touch was driving him mad and he realised how much he had been craving something like that.

“I’ll tell my boys,” Louis said, scanning the crowd for the familiar faces of his band mates.

“Fuck ‘em,” John said, roughly pulling Louis out of the crowded pub into the street. Louis let himself be pulled.

They walked in silence. Louis had his hands in his pockets and was making sidelong glances at John who kept his gaze straight ahead and steady. For someone so drunk, Louis was surprised at John’s ability to walk in a straight line and barely show any signs of his inebriation. Louis wondered how often John let himself get like this.

Once they got into the bar, Louis headed straight for the dance floor again. He was wading into the sea of bodies, letting their warmth settle against his skin. It didn’t take Louis long to let himself go and it didn’t take long for him to achieve his desired response. There were hands on him, strong and firm and Louis grabbed back just as strong. Louis had the strangest urge to check whether John was watching him, Louis wanted John to see him with other men.

After dancing for so long, Louis was covered in sweat and pressing himself against the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Sweat was dripping into his eyes and obscuring his vision and he couldn’t feel a single dry patch on his shirt to wipe it away. Louis kept his eyes closed for a period after that.

Close to two hours after entering the building, the music suddenly stopped and all the bright overhead lights were thrown on, making everyone squint as their eyes adjusted. Sensing that something was wrong, everyone on the dance floor ran to the exits. There were shouts all around Louis and he was lost and confused; not knowing which direction the exit. The sea of bodies he was enjoying only moments before had transformed into a terrifying thing that contained harsh pushing and shoving.

Louis somehow bumped into John who gave him an incredible smile that Louis took for relief. John clutched his hand and they pushed through the crowds to get outside, holding tight so not to lose each other.

Outside was chaos. There were people screaming and running everywhere, Louis wasn’t sure why until he saw that some people were holding cricket bats. Groups of people were hitting people as they ran passed, they generally tried to leave the women alone, not concerned with them for the moment. Louis supposed there were up to twenty people swinging bats around and knocking people to the ground.

Louis was stunned into immovable silence as he surveyed the crowd. A little to the side, he saw a face that sent a shiver through his body. It was one of the creeps from the bar last night, the ones that tried to – well, Louis didn’t really want to think about that. The man shouted at a few people around him, including the other man from the bar, who had a hideously battered face – _did John do that?_ About five of them took off in a sprint towards John and Louis who let go of each other’s hands made a quick dash down the alley way.

“Fucking faggots!” the boys heard from behind them, a string of shouted slurs and insults were hauled at them, “Pillow-biting, cock-sucking bum boys!”

The pair ran as fast as they could and gradually put distance between them and their pursuers. The sound of their own steps were echoing in the darkness, ricocheting off the brick walls and not helping to throw off the grown men that were chasing them. Louis had to make a snap decision and he chose to push John into a shallow doorway that was obscured by shadows a little. John let out a small surprised yelp but otherwise let himself be pushed. Louis hoped there was enough space to keep them hidden as he pressed in close to John’s front.

Louis wanted John to turn around because John’s warm breath on his neck was making him squirm. But Louis didn’t think he could handle being pressed against John’s back and having his crotch tight against the boy’s pert arse.

“Stop breathing, you cunt,” John whispered harshly, he sounded scared and that only managed to scare Louis even more.

“Sure, I’ll just cease doing the main thing that keeps me alive,” Louis whispered back and he wanted to say more but the sound of footsteps approaching made him shut his mouth and attempt to steady his breathing.

Louis had never been more terrified in his life, not even that time his mother caught him coming home after being out all night smoking and getting on the piss. Louis would trade in this experience for a tonne of verbal lashings off his mother, even physical spankings. This was a life or death situation, if they got caught they would be killed and _fuck_ Louis did not want to die yet. Not beaten to death by a gang of hateful arseholes on the eve of his new career, before he got to play gigs in front of thousands of people, before he lived in mansions and fucked his way across the world.

Louis pressed his face into the crock of John’s neck, trying to take up the least amount of room possible. John was shaking, Louis could feel the terror rattling John’s bones, it made Louis grip John tighter, press closer and protect John as much as he could.

The footsteps were getting closer than ever, they sounded like bullets or mini bombs going off and Louis held his breath and closed his eyes. Each footstep felt like a hot poker right through Louis’ chest. He was going to die, he knew it.

The footsteps got closer. He was going to die in some alleyway in another country thousands of miles from his mother and sisters.

The footsteps were right there, right behind him. He was going to die and his body was going to be dumped in the ocean and eaten by fish.

The footsteps passed. He was going to die; they would come back, smell his fear or hear his breathing, something.

The footsteps moved further away and didn’t stop. He was going to live.

The footsteps could no longer be heard. He was alive, he didn’t die.

Louis let out a deep breath and sudden relief caused his body to slump bonelessly against John’s. They stayed pressed against each other for longer than necessary, John was still tightly grasping him and his body was still shuddering, his breath warm against Louis’ neck.

And then Louis felt it, something hard against his lower stomach.

Louis could pull away now. They could climb over a fence and escape through someone’s backyard. Louis could pretend it was John’s belt buckle and let this moment go. Louis could have done either of those things, but he didn’t. Instead, he straightened up and let the front of his hips rub against John’s. There was no missing the low moan that John let out. It had been a long while since either one of them had made a noise and the shock of John’s vocalisation made Louis gasp.

The men might come back, Louis rationalised, or more men might come past but Louis didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. John rolled his hips forward then and Louis had to hold back his own moan. This was so fucking stupid, they was outside in public and pressed closer than two males legally should be. John kept bucking forward and Louis eventually gave in and started thrusting back, he was so fucking scared but horny and excited.

They weren’t exactly kissing but their mouths were close, breath mingling with each other as they struggled to get control over themselves. Louis moved his hands to John’s hips and used his strength to push John back into the door, keeping him still. Louis kept moving, aligning their erections to intensify the feeling.

Neither was sure who initiated it but eventually they were kissing, for lack of a better word. It was mostly two open mouths pressed together with lots of tongue and teeth, not much of a kiss really, but it was hot and raw and Louis was getting light headed from lack of oxygen because he wasn’t getting enough air in through his nose. They were desperate for something, craving and chasing a feeling that they could feel building within the pit of their stomachs.

And then it was over.

John laid his hands flat against Louis chest and pushed the smaller boy off him. Louis went stumbling backwards and had to throw his arms out for balance in order to keep himself from falling over. John had his eyes closed, his was breathing so hard and fast that Louis worried he would splinter his ribs or something. Louis couldn’t deny that John looking hot and completely debauched was a turn on, his dick gave a twitch at the sight of John’s dishevelled clothes and hair, the redness in his face and the wet puffiness of his lips.

John still hadn’t opened his eyes and Louis was starting to get worried. Louis really hoped that John wouldn’t get pissy and have a tantrum because Louis was hard and tired and all he wanted to do right now was go home and rub one out before bed.

When John opened his eyes, Louis noticed that they were wet and a lone tear was making its way down the side of his face. Louis didn’t have much time to react before John was pushing himself away from the door and clutching Louis by his collar, pressing their foreheads together.  Louis brought his hands up to grip John’s wrists, ready to remove them if things got out of hand.

Up close Louis couldn’t work out whether John’s tears were out of frustration or some deep-rooted sadness. Louis suspected a bit of both and probably more.

“I’m not –” John said, breaking off as his voice cracked, “I’m fucking not,” he said determinedly before shoving Louis away from him. John turned his back on the boy and walked over to lean against the opposite wall to him.

Louis was getting just about sick of John’s little denial act, getting a little tired of being subject to John’s split personality. “How did you know about the bar?” Louis asked finitely. He stood with his hands clutched at his sides, ready to defend himself if John decided to lash out again.

John didn’t lash out. He didn’t even answer the question. Instead he slumped to the ground in a squat, back still flat against the wall, “I have a wife,” John said in a small voice.

“You have a what?” Louis asked, momentarily shocked out of his anger.

“A wife,” John echoed dutifully, “and a kid on the way,”

Louis didn’t say anything for a while, he stood there exasperatingly pushing his hands through his hair, “Fucking hell John.” he said eventually, keeping his voice low as he turned his back on the dejected man and walked away. _Brilliant,_ Louis thought, _another poof with a wife and family, just what I need._


	7. Chapter 7

John was not a married man. Not yet anyway.

Cynthia had sent him a tear-soaked letter the previous month that was filled with shaky scribbles that ended with, _I’m pregnant_. Of course, John wrote back immediately and said there was only one thing for it; they would have to get married.

John remembered drinking himself into a stupor and burning Cynthia’s letter. He remembered falling into a random bird’s bed. He remembered yelling at Paul and George and everyone who came into contact with him that week. He remembered crying on Paul’s shoulder, cursing the world for being so unfair. But most of all, he remembered being scared. He still was scared.

John resented Cynthia, hated her even. He hated himself for not bothering with contraception. He hated the unborn child that he would inevitably be a fucking awful father to. He hated having his poof manager Brian sit him down and say, “This will have to be kept a secret, for the band,” looking at him like John had already ruined the band anyway.

He went through cycles. Sometimes John silently hoped Cynthia would have an accident. He imagined Cyn losing it; falling down the stairs, walking in front of a car, tripping and landing on her stomach. He even imagined Cyn dying, taking all his problems with her. Other times, he hoped that Cyn would have a healthy baby boy, someone he could teach how to play guitar and kick a football with. He thought about the possibility of having a girl. She would be the prettiest girl in the world and he would spoil her rotten.

Sitting on the ground, in some dirty alley way in another country, John was so angry. He wanted to punch the wall, but didn’t want to fuck up his hands so he wouldn’t be able to play guitar. He was again overcome with thoughts about what a shitty father he was going to be, a shitty husband. He had no idea what fathers do anyway; his own had fucked off before John even really knew him.

Slowly, before he fell asleep on the cold filthy ground, John stood up and made his way back to the hotel. The image of Louis’ disappointed and disgusted face was stuck in his head.

Louis.

Louis-fucking-Tomlinson with his pretty face and strong arms and soft voice was not included in John’s plans. Louis was not a part of John’s life. Louis could fuck right off and take all his complications with him.

But if John honestly let himself think about it, he couldn’t really blame Louis for the ‘complications’. There had been boys before Louis, boys that were a little too pretty, boys that made their way into John’s dreams. There had been boys that John had kissed and fucked and tossed to the side because _no_ boys were not what he wanted. Women were what he wanted. John loved women, loved their submissiveness, and loved their softness, their prettiness. Shrill voices and giggly laughter that John could fill song books with.

John loved girls. A lot.

That wasn’t to say that all the girls John came across were submissive. John had met some pretty dominating women in his life; his own aunt was one of them. But John had cast them off out of embarrassment; he was threatened by strong women.

To John, boys were supposed to be strong. Boys took control. Not like the birds who laid there and let John do what he wanted. Boys pushed back and John liked that. He liked fighting with boys, being rough with them, hurting them. John had hit women before, hit Cynthia even. Hitting women never satisfied him because women didn’t often hit back, or if they did it wasn’t hard enough for John.

John liked being treated rough because he felt like he deserved it. After all, thinking about being intimate with another man always made John feel like a sick pervert. Mimi would smack him silly if she knew some of the thoughts he had about boys, right down to his own band mate’s plump lips. John wondered what his mother would do if she were alive. Cry maybe? John couldn’t bare it, the disappointment, letting his family down. Buggery was illegal in Britain, also in Hamburg, and it must be illegal for a reason, all gays must be dangerous.

John stumbled into his hotel room close to 6am. Upon entering, he bumped his elbow sharply against the doorframe and shouted all manner of profanities until he heard Paul stirring awake in the single bed closest to the door, “Johnny, that you?” Paul asked; voice thick from sleep.

John walked over and fell to his knees on the side of Paul’s bed. Squinting, he tried to make out Paul’s face through the darkness and his own blurry vision. “Paulie,” he sighed, resting his forehead against the bed.

“John,” Paul said, sounding concerned and more alert than he had previously, “are you hurt?” John could hear Paul push his duvet down and reach out towards him. “John?” Paul said, gently lifting John’s head up by his chin, “you okay, son?”

John didn’t answer. “Do you think Louis Tomlinson is a poofter?” John asked instead, not knowing why he asked that, not knowing what he wanted to hear from Paul.

Paul didn’t say anything for a bit. “I don’t think that’s important,” he said carefully.

John felt his anger growing again, “Of course it’s important,” he snarled, slapping Paul’s hands away, “do you think he is?” John asked aggressively, forcing Paul to answer.

“Yes John, I think the kid is,” Paul conceded with a sigh, looking away and pushing his hands through his hair. After a beat, he swiftly met John’s gaze again, “did he try something with you?”

“No,” John said, a little too defensively. “I wouldn’t let that fucking fairy touch me,”

“Is that how you feel about queers?” Paul asked, sitting up in his bed, “What about Brian?”

“Well it’s their fault isn’t it?” John asked.

“Sometimes I think that maybe they can’t help it, it’s in there nature,” Paul said helpfully, tipping his head back and looking down at John with his mightier-than-thou expression that never failed to piss John off.

“I think they choose it,” he said as he stood up. Now Paul was looking up at him, they had switched positions and now John felt like the powerful one, “I think they choose to be perverts,”

Paul decided to change topics, “How’s Cyn, chatted to her recently?” he laid back down, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

“Sent her a letter a few days ago,” John said shuffling over to his own bed and throwing himself into it.

“You’re going to be the first of us to get married,” Paul said softly.

John knew that Paul was only trying to be friendly, but it pissed him right off. He sat back up in his bed and pointed at Paul, “Alright for you though, innit? Dot couldn’t keep yours,”

“Just say it John,” Paul said calmly.

“Say what?” John replied gruffly, lowering his hand and using it to rub his tired eyes.

“Say that you’re scared,” Paul stated simply, opening one eye to look at John.

“Fuck off! I ain’t scared,” John said, laying down on his back and folding his arms across his chest, “I’m pissed off. I’m too young to be settling down,” John turned onto his side so that he could look at Paul, his head resting in his palm, “I want a girl in every port waiting with wet panties, not a fucking wife and baby,”

“If you say so John,” Paul said turning away from him and seemingly settling back into sleep.

“I ain’t scared,” John said again firmly. Paul didn’t reply.

John didn’t sleep a wink that night. Instead, he got back out of bed, took his guitar and notebook and headed back out the door, letting it slam shut behind him. It was the early hours of the morning and the sun was rising in the distance. John walked to the nearest park, perched himself on the bench and played. He wrote lyrics about love and loss and pain and he strummed until his fingers were numb.

Before John knew it, the local church bell was ringing out to signal 12noon and he looked up to see that people were sitting in the park all around him. He had been playing for hours and almost filled the rest of his tiny book.

“You been to bed yet mate? You look like shite,” John heard a familiar voice from behind him. He turned to see Louis Tomlinson standing there with a small child on his shoulders. Louis was smiling and he looked unfairly pretty, he was freshly shaven with neatly styled hair and healthy flushed cheeks. The only sign of Louis’ possible exhaustion were the small bags under his eyes. John felt like the bags under his own eyes were big enough to fit golf balls into and he hadn’t shaven in over a week so he knew that he was looking worse for wear.

“Why the fuck are you here?” John huffed.

“I’ve been staying in the hotel just over there,” he pointed to the building across the road, of course they both knew that was Louis’ hotel, even though John never said he dropped Louis off there a couple of nights back, “I saw you from my window, you’ve been out here for hours mate,” John ignored the concern evident in Louis’ voice.

“Who’s this one then? Not yours I’m guessing,” John said, nodding towards the child on Louis’ shoulders.

Louis grinned widely and gently let the small child off his shoulders and put her on the ground, “This is Lux,” Louis said, carefully taking the girl’s hand and kneeling down next to her, “She belongs to one of the people travelling with us,”

John watched as Louis pulled faces at the child and tickled her gently, “They just trust you with her?” John asked, eyes not leaving the giggling face of the girl.

“Aye,” Louis nodded, “I have four younger sisters. I’m good with kids,”

“I didn’t know ya had sisters,”

“Never asked, did you?”

“No, suppose not,” John said, feeling awkward. The air between Louis and him was a little strange; there was tension for sure but there was a sort of fabricated calmness as well. _Maybe it’s the child_ , John thought, _maybe they bring peace._

Louis broke the silence, “We’re going to get ice cream wanna come?” he asked, standing back up and looking at John.

“No I think –”

“Ice cream!” The little girl squealed, cutting John off, before clapping and giggling.

“That’s right, you pretty little thing,” Louis said, his voice becoming even more high-pitched, “you’re so clever,” he said, poking the girl lightly on the belly. Lux glowed under Louis’ attention and praise, John could almost relate.

“You sure?” Louis asked again, “Be a bit like practise,” he said kindly, eyes soft.

John hesitated again, but this time he strapped his guitar on and put his notebook under his arm, “Nothing better to do, I suppose,” he said as an excuse.

As they walked, John wanted to ask more about Louis’ little sisters but didn’t know how to start that conversation, instead he said, “I have two sisters,”

“Really, what are their names?” Louis asked.

John smiled, “Julia and Jackie,”

“Julia and Jackie!” Lux repeated excitedly.

Louis smiled down at the little one before looking back up at John. “She’s at that age, you know,” Louis explained and John wanted to say ‘no, I don’t know, I’m fucking clueless about this remember?’ but he waited for Louis to continue, “she just repeats what we say, words that she likes the sound of,” Louis smiled back down at Lux and flicked her nose a bit, “Maybe you’ll have a girl?” Louis said, looking back at John.

“I hope not,” John scoffed; he hadn’t decided on whether he could handle a girl, “What are your sisters like?” John finally asked, slipping his hands into his pockets and tucking his chin into the collar of his jacket.

“Beautiful. I like to spoil them when I can,” Louis chuckled. “My mum’s been through some crap so I try and support them when I can. A portion of my pay here goes back to help them. She doesn’t like accepting it, but I tell her if she doesn’t take it I’ll buy drugs with it.”

“No father?” John asked.

“No father,” Louis confirmed, “My parents split up when I was young. Mum remarried, had four daughters and then split up again. She’s seeing some bloke at the moment, but I’ve not met him yet,” John could tell from the way Louis spoke of his family that he was very protective of them, especially his mother and sisters. Louis would make such a great father and it was such a shame that he might not have that opportunity.

“My parents split when I was young too,” John said, not sure why he was telling Louis this, but felt like he had to in some way, “my mother made me choose between them when I was five,” John sighed, not feeling comfortable telling this story, “anyway, fuck it, you could probably read about it when I get famous,”

Louis didn’t push John about it and he appreciated that, “Do you really think you’ll make it?” Louis asked curiously.

“Aye, all the way to the top,” John answered dutifully, not because he was particularly confident that his band where good enough but rather that he couldn’t comprehend a situation where they didn’t make it big. It just wasn’t on the cards. The Beatles would make it and, as far as John was concerned, that was that.

The trio got to the ice creamery and Louis put Lux on his shoulders again so that she could see the ice creams. She pointed to what she wanted and Louis paid for all of their ice creams.

Afterwards, John was walking back to the park with an ice cream in his hand with Louis and a small child by his side. It felt weirdly domestic as he looked down at little Lux getting ice cream all over herself and chattering away like a drunk walking home from a bar. John thought that maybe he could do this. Maybe he could do the parent thing.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in his hotel room, Louis thought about how the whole time that he was with John and Lux, he wanted to talk about what happened in the alley way. He wanted to ask John what he was feeling, he wanted to ask more about his wife and unborn baby, he wanted to pull John to the nearest dark corner and see what the leather-clad lad would do.

In reality, Louis knew that John would just shut him down and might actually hit him. He could tell that John was a very angry young man and Louis didn’t want to push it. Instead they talked about mundane family things, but Louis couldn’t help but think he almost preferred that.

Seeing John in the daylight was different to seeing him at night. Perhaps it was the sun that made John act a little warmer. In the light Louis could finally see that John had auburn hair, not dark hair like he originally thought. In the light Louis could also see the paleness of his face and the awful rings under his eyes. John was running himself into the ground.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Louis heard from the bed next to him. Harry was sitting there silently flipping through a newspaper; Louis almost forgot he was there.

“Nothing important baby cakes, nothing to worry yourself about,” Louis said with a small smile.

Harry turned back to his newspaper, “Saw you with John and Lux in the park,” he said, feigning disinterest as he kept his eyes on the words in front of him. Louis knew that Harry had stopped reading though.

“Yeah, we went for ice creams,” Louis said casually, heading towards the bathroom to fix his hair in the mirror.

“Thought you said you didn’t like him,”

“I don’t,”

“Then why are you hanging out with him?”

“It was an accident,” Louis said, walking back into the room, “I only wanted to take Lux out for ice cream,” It wasn’t entirely true of course, Louis had seen John from the window and used Lux as an excuse to walk through the park. Louis wasn’t going to admit to that though.

“Right,” Harry said, disbelief evident in his voice, “nothing you do is ever an accident,”

Louis was about to respond when there was a sharp knocking at the door, “Ready for our gig tonight, boys?” Zayn asked, his voice muffled by the closed door.

“Ready,” Harry called, getting out of his bed and excitably throwing open the door. He patted Zayn on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Louis?” Zayn said, motioning towards the exit.

“Can you come in for a sec?” Louis said, “Shut the door,”

Zayn did what he was told, frowning slightly as he walked over the Louis, “what is it babes?”

“I need more,” Louis said simply.

“Louis –” Zayn started to say but Louis cut him off before he could object.

“Please,” Louis begged, “I’m tired as fuck. These long shows are killing me,”

Zayn looked at him apprehensively before sighing and pulling some pills out of his jacket pockets, “only two though, otherwise it won’t be the long shows killing you,”

Louis smiled and swallowed the pills dry, “Thanks man. How do you get them anyway?”

“Stu gave me a stash,” he said, motioning Louis towards the door again, “did you hear John threw him out of the band?”

“Really?” Louis asked, flabbergasted about why John would do that, “I thought they were mates,”

Zayn opened the door and hastily pushed Louis through it towards the waiting van, “Stu didn’t seem too cut up about it, think he wanted out of the band anyway,”

“Suppose he was a fucking awful bassist,” Louis commented, swiftly reaching into Zayn’s back pocket and swiping his pack of fags.

 

One Direction did their set and stayed behind to watch The Beatles do theirs, the group sat at a table with Stu just off to the side of the stage. The boys were better than ever, having Paul take over as the bassist and Ringo joining in permanently as the drummer meant that they were really starting to fine tune their sound.

John was still a prick on stage though. Hitler jokes seemed to be his favourite. Once the music started he was fine, but as soon as the song ended John was quick with a jibe. Sometimes he’d get personal and make rude comments about the people in the front. Tonight one man even jumped on stage and had John around the neck. Louis jumped up out of surprise, but John easily threw the man off and the bouncers were dragging the man out of the bar. It was never just about music, Beatles’ shows. There was always something else going on.

There was also clear competition between Paul and John who glared at each other almost as much as they smiled. John was obviously the leader, he looked the biggest and he was the pushy one, telling everyone else what to play. Paul probably could be the leader but he let John push him around a little bit too much.

When The Beatles finished their full set a few hours later, the entire group moved near the back of the bar to a table that would fit all of them.

George was getting a lot of attention tonight, Louis noted. The boy was wearing a snazzy new pair of cowboy boots and had his hair styled differently. His fringe was flat against his forehead instead of slicked back; it was different from what the other boys had. Of course, Louis wasn’t to know at the time that he was witnessing a monumental change in The Beatles hairstyles.

“Das liebschen kind,” a woman from the group over was saying to her friends while pointing at George.

“What are they saying?” Louis leaned across the table to ask George, nodding towards the girls.

George blushed and Paul answered for him, “The beautiful child,” he said lighting a cigarette, “his new look’s been getting all sorts of attention,” Paul winked at George and ruffled the younger boys hair.

“Bugger off,” George said, flattening his hair back down again with a small frown, “was sick of all that Brylcreem and got Astrid to cut it. I like it.”

John smiled, a sort of cruel edge to it, “makes you look older,”

George didn’t seem too impressed by this comment, “fuck off,” he scoffed, taking a gulp of beer to hide his frown.

“You lads heard about how this one got himself deported last year?” John announced to the rest of the group, who immediately stopped talking. Louis would never get used to the instantaneous attention John always got, he barely had to raise his voice and everyone knew to listen.

“Aye, he bent my ear about it the other day,” Niall piped in, flicking his scrunched up serviette across the table and hitting George right between the eyes. The two boys started giggling uncontrollably.

Louis spoke up, “I haven’t heard it,” he said, fiddling with his empty glass.

John looked at him and relaxed back into his chair slightly, putting his arm around George’s shoulders, “He was too young, sweet little baby face,” John said teasingly pulling at the boy’s cheeks. George swatted John’s hand away and blushed slightly, “Paul and Pete got done for arson soon after and got shipped off too,” John slowly shook his finger in Paul’s direction and tutted, “naughty little Beatles,”

“Arson?” Louis echoed.

John smiled, still watching Paul, “Nailed a rubber to the wall and set it alight,”

Niall laughed loudly by Louis’ side, “You set fire to a condom?” he asked in disbelief.

“It was dark and we needed a light,” Paul said nonchalantly, finishing the rest of his drink.

“A condom though?” Niall asked, still chuckling a little.

Paul shrugged, “I suggested setting Pete’s hair on fire, but it was strangely turned down,”

Niall threw his head back and cackled, easily drowning out the rest of the boy’s laughter.

“Where is Pete these days anyway?” George asked.

“Told him to pack his bags,” John said.

“Fucking hell, you axed two band mates in under a week,” George cried, more amused than anything.

“Watch your back Geo, I might replace you with the Irish prat,” John said, holding his drink up to Niall, “the kid plays a mean guitar,”

Louis saw that Niall blushed under John’s compliment, before he gave the Beatle a thumbs-up and said, “Thanks man,” with a dopy smile.

John smiled brightly back at the boy, obviously warming up to him. Louis knew that there was something infectiously happy about Niall; the kid was a fucking ball of sunshine and kittens.

The girls were still giggling and looking over at George. Louis could see that John noticed it too, irritation evident on his face. Louis wondered whether John was used to not being the centre of attention, “George got his first shag here,” John said, a little loud, “was all very romantic”

“Weh heyy,” Niall cried, holding his hand out for a high-five.

“Fuck off,” George said to John, but accepted the high-five from Niall with a shy smile.

Paul joined in on the teasing, “We were all there, we’d know,”

“You were all there?” Louis asked, looking between John and Paul, “Was it some kinky Beatles orgy?”

“Fuck off,” John snarled, not looking at Louis, “We were all staying in the same room. We couldn’t afford hotel rooms and we were living backstage at some club.”

“Geo didn’t last very long,” Paul continued his torment, laughing partway through his sentence, John joined in and the two fell against each other, giggling like children. Louis didn’t understand why the boys were picking specifically on George tonight. Louis figured that it was probably because George was the youngest and an easy target. The pair seemed rather ruthless and Louis briefly wondered what was said behind closed doors.

“Piss off,” George moaned; properly red in the face now, “it was my first time,”

They broke off into separate conversations after that, Louis sat back and listened to the chatter all around him. His thoughts drifted to the future, about going back home. He envisioned his life back in England, doing gigs in and around the area, waiting and hoping for a big break.

Louis yelped as something kicked him hard under the table. Everyone was focused on their conversations and didn’t notice Louis’ reaction, well, everyone but John who was smirking at him. Louis shot him a confused look and John just signalled towards the bar. Louis rolled his eyes but got to his feet and followed closely behind John.

At the bar the two of them played an interesting game called Don’t Acknowledge the Person Next to You in Any Way. Louis lost of course, because he could never be patient around John, “Something you want to say?”

“No,” John said noncommittally. Louis didn’t feel like playing this game so he started to walk away, “Wait, yes, actually,” John called. When Louis turned back, he saw that John looked nervous and was staring at Louis pleadingly, but he wasn’t going to give John an easy time.

“Spit it out then,” Louis said, keeping his expression and tone lazy and bored, not wanting to appear overeager.

“Alright,” John said defensively, but he was starting to smile, “bit touchy today, aren’t we?” John moved, standing close in Louis’ personal space, “Heard there’s a new place,” he waggled his eye brows and looked down at the boy sweetly.

Louis opened his mouth in shook, “You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” John said, with a smirk, all too proud of himself.

“John we nearly –” Louis cut himself off, not sure if he was allowed to mention that night. “How did you find out about this new place? How did you even find out about the old place?”

“Fuck, what are you? The pub police?” John said, pulling away from Louis with a frown, but there was cruel amusement in his eyes.

“That’s a terrible joke and you know it,” Louis basically growled, both of them knew that some of those people who busted the pub the other night were probably coppers.

“I just thought you’d be interested is all,” John said, running his thumb over his eye brows and fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “if you’re not, I can take my safeguarded information elsewhere,” John started to walk away, but there was too much dramatic flair and Louis knew he wasn’t going far. Still…

“John, wait,” Louis said, grasping John’s upper arm, “where is this place?”

“Come with me,” John said invitingly.

Louis gave a tired sigh, “Is this going to be a thing for us?”

“Christ, not like we’re doing anything illegal,”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated at this point,”

“Come with me,” John practically begged, or as near to as he would ever get, “I know you want to go. I’ve seen you on the floor,” John was moving close again, “you really are a sight to see, aren’t you,” John’s face was so close to Louis’ now, his voice low enough to be considered a purr, “but you already knew that, probably been told that before,” John’s lips were right by Louis’ ear, “do you check to see if I’m watching as you grind against other men?”

“John –” Louis was breathless and scared, this was a very crowded bar, and potentially full of people who owned baseball bats.

“I was watching you, by the way, I’m always fucking watching you,” John said in a low voice before pulling away and walking out of the bar.

Louis stood for a moment before racing out after him.

 

The new bar was smaller and filled with less people; obviously there were still a lot of individuals who were recovering from the trauma that occurred at the other bar. It was certainly enough to send people underground for a while, reminding them that their kind wasn’t allowed a free ride through this life.

The music was still loud and the beer was still being poured, that kept Louis happy. The dance floor, however, that was a sight for sorry eyes. There were maybe ten people on the dance floor, fifteen at a push, certainly not enough for Louis. Not nearly enough for Louis to get lost in. Louis needed a sea of bodies that he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to sink or float in. Ten people weren’t enough.

Louis followed John to the bar and they sat down on the stools.

“Not up for a dance?” John asked curiously, he raised an eye brow as he took a sip out of his pint.

Louis looked around nervously, “do you think more people will come?”

John shrugged, “the turn out so far has been better than I expected,” he nodded sharply to the sparse dance floor, “go on then, dance,”

“Dance with me,” Louis asked, not meeting John’s eyes.

John laughed, laughed harder than Louis had ever seen him before. He looked at Louis smiling but stopped soon after; he must have seen something in Louis’ eyes, “you’re serious?”

Louis needed more than ten people; Louis needed John, “Yes,”

John finished his pint in large quick gulps, “fuck it,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “shake, rattle and roll,” John sing-songed as he took Louis’ hand and led him to the dance floor.

It wasn’t until they got to the middle that they realised some silly country song was playing. Grinning to each other, they immediately started to do some mock country dances. They linked arms and swung each other around, took off their imaginary hats and waved them around shouting “yee haw!” at the top of their lungs. Louis was laughing, laughing so much that he felt incredibly light, like he could float to the ceiling and stay there for weeks.

The music changed, it was good old rock and roll, not a song that they had heard before but it was something with a little more clout. The guitars were lower, dirtier; it made Louis press harder against John, like he was trying to burrow under John’s clothes to get to his skin. John was still, letting Louis tug and touch, making Louis feel intoxicated with power. Louis wondered how far he could push John, how far John was willing to be pushed. They were pressed so close; it would be hard to find a pocket of air between them.

And then, without warning, John started to move. Louis figured out pretty quick that John was a good dancer, but he held back the way he did when he played guitar. His movements were precise, never sloppy, and there were bursts of passion and intensity before he got a hold of himself and slowed back down. Louis wondered what it would take to get John to completely let go.

John and Louis left the bar a few hours later and as they walked back to their hotels they kept close, their shoulders pressed together and the backs of their hands brushing sightly.

John broke the silence, “What’s up with your guitarists and drummer, how come they never stick around?” he asked randomly.

“They’re not really part of the band,” Louis said confused about why John brought _that_ up, “it’s just us five,”

“How come you’re more important than them?” John argued, sounding agitated.

“It’s not that we’re more important,” Louis said carefully, wanting to avoid an argument, “it’s just us five are One Direction and they, like, support us,” Louis knew that he was sounding like a pretentious dick, but it was hard to explain. “We’ve had so many different guitarists and drummers that we’ve stopped including them into our circle. Besides, as long as they get paid, they don’t care.” Louis figured that the five of them started this whole thing and they appreciated everyone’s help but it was always going to be them five, other people would come and go, but it would always be the five of them.

“Strange set up,” John commented. Louis wished he could explain it better, wanted John to see what he meant, but he let the topic drop. Besides Louis sometimes wished they were a “proper” band that played their own instruments but it just wasn’t on the cards for them.


	9. Chapter 9

So, The Beatles and One Direction became friends. John still wasn’t sure whether he liked this idea, if only for the reason that he would now have to learn each of the boy’s names. John already worked out that the curly one was called Harry; he was the one that Louis drifted to more often than not. John eventually worked out the rest. The artsy quiff was Zayn; he wore leather almost as much as John and his band did. The toff was named Liam; he seemed to be the target of most of the band mates’ pranks. The blonde guitarist was named Niall and John sort of liked him. Niall had an outspoken kind of crass sense of humour that John could relate to a lot and John dug the Irish accent.

Both bands were about due for a night off and when it finally arrived they unspokenly spent it together at the park near One Direction’s hotel. It was pitch-black and the sounds of the city waking up were echoing around them making them feel giddy and gleeful. Stu was out with Astrid and John was still adjusting to the boy no longer being in the band.

“So the stage just broke?” Niall asked through his laughter. The group were sharing stories and The Beatles were talking about their first trip to Hamburg.

“Aye,” John said with a smile, “we all got beaten for it too. It wasn’t even us that did it in the end, it was the Rory Storm cunts,” and then after a beat, “Sorry Ritchie, I don’t mean you,”

“The bastards,” Niall commented, still shaking from laughter. Niall was always laughing and it never sounded obnoxious or arrogant, it was a sound that you couldn’t help but smile to when you hear it.

“They never gave us bathroom breaks so we used to piss out the window,” John continued, “we used to try and aim for the bouncers,”

Niall was laughing again, “brilliant,” he said.

“Those were the days,” Paul joined in, taking a sip out of his beer bottle and passing it to John, “we stayed in some shitty room with no heat and only thin Union Jack flags as blankets,”

John made a sound of affirmation before piping in, “and it was right near the shitters, women pissing next door used to wake us up,”

“What about the music?” Liam asked, waving away John’s offer for a sip of beer. John still didn’t like the toff.

“Crap,” Paul answered quickly, John sent him a disapproving look and he just shrugged, “we were though,”

John didn’t like to admit that his band was anything but brilliant. Realistically, he knew they were shite in the beginning, but John was too proud to accept that. Instead, he said, “We learned to play in front of people,”

“Mach schau, mach shau,” George cried in a really bad German accent.

Louis joined the conversation then, “We hear that all the time, what does it mean?” John handed Louis and beer and he took it with a small smile.

“Make show,” John answered, tapping his jean pockets for his cigarettes, “basically meaning: play good ya pricks or we’ll drag you off the stage,”

“How do you know that?” Louis asked.

“Pete knew a bit of German, helped us translate,” John said, lighting his cigarette and taking a puff before passing it to George’s outstretched hand.

“Well you’re fucked now,” Louis said smirking.

John smirked back, “As long as we know how to ask for a beer and a shag we get by,”

Louis stopped smiling and awkwardly glanced away.

They broke off into their little conversation groups after that, telling more stories and jokes. John was observing the other band. Zayn didn’t really say much but would occasionally do or say something ridiculous that was usually encouraged by one of the other lads. Niall and Harry laughed and smiled a lot, but in a comforting way. John usually didn’t like people who were too happy but the two of them had charmingly infectious qualities about them. Liam was probably the more serious of them, but John could see he was pretty easily led. And then there was Louis, he was obviously their leader. The entire group seemed to circle around him, vying for his attention and literally glowing when he gives it to them. John could even see George and Paul getting a little sucked in; even Ringo took a bit of a shine to the golden boy.

After a few hours, they went to a bottle shop and bought more beer. Well, Paul and Harry bought more beer and the rest snuck bottles down their pants and casually walked back out.

“Why don’t you drink then?” John asked Liam after the second time the boy turned down a beer.

Liam put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, “Only got one kidney, reckon I might die if I get on the drink,”

“But you’ve never tried it?” John asked, dangling a bottle in front of him.

“That’s what I’m always saying,” Louis said, throwing his arm over Liam’s shoulder and leaning heavily into him. John could already see the tell tail signs of Louis’ drunkenness, using other people as support while he walked was one of them. “You don’t know for sure, besides one beer wouldn’t kill you, surely,”

“I’d rather not find out,” Liam said, looking uncertain.

Louis snatched the bottle out of John’s hand and held it in front of Liam. “I’m not making you, just forcefully suggesting that you try just once,” John watched the scene unfold curiously. Liam seemed pretty steadfast only a few moments ago but he was already starting to waver. “One beer,” Louis repeated, smiling kindly, “I’ll promise I’ll carry you on my back to the nearest hospital if you start convulsing,”

“That’s very generous of you,” Liam’s tone was sarcastic but he was reaching for the beer bottle. John felt strange watching this. It was similar to how John made his band mates do certain things. However, Louis was a lot less forceful but still got people to obey him. It annoyed John how easily Louis got what he wanted out of people without really forcing them to do anything.

Liam took a few sips and scrunched his face in disgust, “you drink this shite every night?”

“You drink enough not to taste it anymore,” Niall said, patting Liam on the back, “drink up mate,” and Liam did, gradually taking bigger gulps as he went. When he finished everyone cheered, everyone except John.

“I drink up to fifteen beers a night and I never get a fucking applause,” John spat, trying to make a mockery out of the situation. Not understanding how the rest of them couldn’t see how ridiculous they all were.

“We’d end up with blisters if we clapped you every time you had a beer,” George said, laughing at his own stupid joke, “then we couldn’t play the guitar,” After hearing everyone else join in the hysterics, John snapped and grabbed George by the collar. Nobody made John Lennon look like a fool.

“I’ll give yer a reason why ya can’t play guitar,” John threatened as he let go of George’s collar with one hand and grasped the younger boy’s thin wrist tightly.

“John!” Paul cried, running forward and pulling John back by his shoulders. John swung around with an outstretched arm, nearly hitting Paul who ducked just in time to avoid a smack around the head. “Calm down John, we’re your mates,” John only got angrier. He looked around at everybody else’s faces, they all looked anxious and slightly scared, George was pale and shaking a little, his eyes widened with fear. John was used to people being scared of him but as he looked around the group he felt an uneasy feeling in his gut.

John took a few deep steadying breaths, “Let’s go down to the fucking seaport,” he commanded. Everyone nodded and followed after him. John had what he wanted, control over the group, but he wasn’t as pleased with himself about it as he usually was.

 

Of course they all ended up in the water. It started when Liam was pushed in by Louis, who was then pushed in by Niall, who was pushed in by George. Eventually the rest of them jumped in after stripping down to their briefs (Harry ended up completely naked, John couldn’t help but notice), except Zayn who stood a far distance away from the water. Zayn couldn’t swim, John was told.

The boys who were all pushed in took off most of their clothing and threw them up onto the docks. It was balls-freezing cold in the water but pretty soon their bodies were numb. The boys all started splashing and pulling each other under water, Ringo was up on Harry’s shoulders and fighting Niall who was up on Liam’s, everyone was laughing and it seemed that John’s outburst was forgotten. John just had to ignore George’s flinches whenever he got near the younger boy and the worrisome glances from Louis and Paul, but that was pretty easy for John.

They dragged themselves out of the water and onto the dock, shivering as they uselessly clutched their arms around themselves to keep warm. John realised pretty quick that their clothes and Zayn were missing. It didn’t take a genius to make the connection, “fucking little prick,” John said, although the effect was somewhat dampened by the fact that John’s teeth were chattering.

Louis laughed and John turned to him, flabbergasted. His arsehole best mate had run off with all their clothes and he was laughing. And then Paul gave a chuckle, then Niall and eventually everyone followed suit. Even John laughed in the end, because _fuck it_ :if you can’t beat ‘em – join ‘em.

Huddled together to try and keep warm, the boys staggered down an empty street. The moon was high in the sky, full and round like a pregnant belly. John didn’t really want to think about pregnant bellies so he thought instead about Louis. Louis who was standing close by his side, heat radiating off of him and it made John want to reach out and _touch_.

To distract himself, John pointed over a person’s fence, “someone’s left their washing up, come on lads, its open slather!” John ran to the fence and climbed over, he waited as everyone else made their way over, Harry carefully guiding his naked bits over the sharp edge.

When they got to the washing line, they discovered that the person who lived in the house was clearly female. There were mostly dresses and skirts with only a few of trousers and a bunch of coats and blouses. “Well, fuck,” John said, staring meekly at the clothing.

“I’ll wear a dress,” Harry volunteered, already taking the pegs off a particularly feminine floral dress. George and Niall stepped forward, giggling to themselves as they each took skirts off the line.

“At least they’re long skirts, I am a _lady_ after all,” Niall said in a high-pitched voice, quickly putting on the skirt and taking a blouse off the line, seeming to carefully choose one that wouldn’t clash with the skirt. John, Liam and Ringo proceeded to put on the trousers and choose a couple of warm coats.

The boys soon made their way down to the nearest drinking establishment. They found Zayn immediately; they only had to follow the sound of uncontrollable laughter. Predicting John’s intentions, Louis stood in front of John with a strong hand on his shoulder, “it was just a stupid prank, don’t go ape shit,” Louis pleaded.

“I won’t,” John said truthfully, shrugging Louis off, “I just want to shake his hand,” he said, Louis looked unsure.

John walked straight over to Zayn who reeled backwards a little in his seat. John stood in front of him for a little bit before giving the kid a smile and putting his hand out. Zayn shook it, wearing an uneasy, strained smile. “You’re a bastard but you’re a funny bastard,” John said, before pulling out a lacy bra from his pocket and holding it out to Zayn, “I nicked these for you too, you know, so you don’t stand out,” It was a peace offering and Zayn accepted it, laughing now and giving John a relaxed smile.

“Dressing like a male is such a faux pas darling,” Niall said in a scarily good falsetto, before flipping his imaginary hair and sitting on the stool cross-legged, pulling his skirt over his ankles.

“I’ll wear it now,” Zayn said, slipping off his leather jacket and putting the bra on over the top of his shirt. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Niall, “what do you reckon?”

Niall reached out and groped one of Zayn’s empty bra cups, “you’re a little too small for me sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

More alcohol was drunk and everyone was starting to ask stupid questions and slur their words. George leaned across the table and pointed at Niall with a squint, “what are you Irish for?”

Niall looked taken aback but shrugged with a bemused smile, “Well, I was born there, wasn’t I?”

John tuned into the conversation that Zayn and Paul were having, “I’ve got a girl back home, Perrie,” Zayn was smiling like an idiot, a soft glint in his eye, “she’s beautiful, I’m going to marry her one day,”

“She doesn’t mind you chasing German snatch?” Paul asked, missing his mouth with the beer bottle and poking his nose.

“We have an understanding,” Zayn said with an easy shrug.

“Fair enough,” Paul said, leaning back in his chair, “Dot would rip my dick off if she knew what I got up to over ‘ere,”

John laughed, “She wouldn’t rip your cock off mate, it’s all you’re good for,” he swiped.

“Fuck you,” Paul said, but he was smiling.

 

They got kicked out of the bar in the end. They were too loud and smashed too many glasses and just overall didn’t look right. Harry lifted up his dress to flash his cock and balls at the bar man before grabbing Ringo and racing out of the shop laughing. The rest of the boys ran out after them and John’s face hurt from smiling too much.

As they walked, John lit his last cigarette and shared it with Louis, who didn’t hold out his hand to receive the fag, just opened his mouth. Having his fingers so close to Louis’ lips felt like the most sexual thing John had done in a long while. John wanted to let his finger’s linger and see whether Louis would suck them into his mouth along with the cigarette.

There was a wolf whistle behind them and the boys turned to face the noise, John squinting his eyes to make out the figures in the distance.

“Holy fuck, they’re blokes,” one of the men said, and hang on a minute, John knew that voice. John would never forget that voice for as long as he lived.

“Not just any blokes, you fuckers,” John stepped forward into the street light, illuminating his face for the two men to see. A look of absolute terror flashed across the lad’s eyes, they were frozen in place.

John ran up to them, hearing footsteps close behind. Next thing John new, his fist was connecting with one of the men’s noses with a sickening crunch, “not again,” the man moaned, clutching his face and falling to his knees. Louis was beside John, repeatedly beating the other man who was lying on the ground in a foetal position, fruitlessly defending himself from the punches.

“Not so tough without your mates and a fucking bat are you?” Louis spat, holding the man by his collar and slamming his head against the road. The man was motionless, still breathing but too disorientated from the blow to move.

“You’re scum,” John was saying, looking between the pathetic looking pair, “if I ever see you again I’m going to fucking kill you,” John pulled Louis off of the man, trying to calm the agitated boy down by whispering calming words into his ear. The two of them made their way to the group who were all standing there completely dumbfounded about what they had witnessed.

None of them asked any questions, which surprised John. Although, maybe they were silently hoping that someone else would. Nothing was said and they silently made their way back to One Direction’s hotel.

Instead of going to their rooms, the boys all climbed to the very top of the hotel building and sat there as they watched the sunrise. John watched as Harry and Louis sat down next to each other, as close as they could, “It was good to spend the night out with you, been ages,” John heard Harry say to Louis.

“It’s been like three nights?” Louis said dismissively, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Ages,” Harry echoed firmly, resting his forehead on Louis’ shoulder and hugging the boy tight around the waist.

Harry seemed really dependent on Louis and John was curious to find out just how deep that dependency ran. It wasn’t the first time John had questionable thoughts about the relationship between Harry and Louis. A part of John didn’t really want to know the answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Louis woke up with an awful pain in his neck. When he sat up he realised that he was on the floor of his and Harry’s hotel room. Except, there were a lot more people than just him and Harry in there. All of the One Direction and Beatles’ boys were sprawled out across the room.

Louis sat up rubbing his neck, blinking a few times to help focus the room through his awful headache, he noticed a few strange things. First of all, Harry was wearing a dress. Also George and Niall were wearing skirts. Louis looked around the room again and noticed there were a couple of people missing, Zayn and Paul.

Standing up and stretching, Louis carefully padded across the room to get to the door. He found Zayn outside, he was topless and had a bra dangling out of his back pocket, which was strange because Louis didn’t remember coming across any women last night.

Zayn was smoking and drinking what was left of the whisky. Louis stood next to Zayn and the boy automatically passed the bottle to him, “tastes like arse,” Zayn said, “been open all night I reckon,” he leaned back against the wall and took another puff of his cigarette.

Louis didn’t care, “piss is piss,” he said, taking two massive swigs before handing it back to Zayn, “speaking of piss,” Louis said, patting Zayn on the back and heading towards the back of the hotel to take a leak. On his way there, he bumped into Paul.

“Hi,” Louis said awkwardly, realising that he had never really had a one-on-one conversation with Paul.

“Hi,” Paul said, looking equally as awkward. Louis stepped to the side to get around Paul, but as he was walking past the other boy spoke up, “what’s the deal with you and John?”

Louis stopped moving. He gave a lazy shrug and put his hands in his pockets, “he hates me I think, keeps pushing me away and being a prick,”

“That’s the thing,” Paul said, “He doesn’t really want you to go.”

Louis looked curiously at Paul, “So it’s like a test?”

“Sure, you could say that,” Paul said, looking at Louis up and down appraisingly, “he seems to like you for some reason,” he said, like he already knew the reason and resented Louis for it. Louis wanted to know what Paul was thinking, wanted to ask but knew that he wouldn’t get a straight answer. “John asked me a strange question about you the other night,” he said, standing back a little and looking down his nose at Louis. These kinds of situations made Louis hate being a little on the short side.

“What was it?” Louis asked, hoping that the shake in his voice wasn’t obvious.

“He asked me if I thought you were gay,” Paul said bluntly, checking Louis’ expression. Louis tried really hard to give nothing away, but on the inside his heart and mind were racing, “now, why would he ask me something like that?” Louis didn’t say anything. Paul started to walk away, but then he stopped and turned back to face Louis again, “I don’t know what John’s interest in you is, but it better not have anything to do with that question,” he warned, before heading back to the overcrowded hotel room. Louis wanted to say something witty, but his mind was blank, all he could think was: _why on earth would is John asking about his sexuality?_

The gigs were back on tonight. The night off was nice, but it was back to work, back to the reason why they were even in this shithole in the first place. Louis had managed to snag some more prellies off Zayn and took all four at once.

The gig was a blur but Louis remembered making Harry change the lyrics of some songs and telling the serendipitous story of how he and Harry were once at the same gig together, before they had even met. Of course, not many of the crowd understood English, but Louis liked to talk and Harry seemed to be his favourite topic.

Harry was great on the stage. Louis was always divided about whether he wanted to be on stage singing with Harry or watching him from the audience. The kid always seemed to give his heart and soul into the performance, a fucking born and ready rock star. If they weren’t going to make it in this world as a band, Louis was sure that Harry would do it alone. The kid was made for the stage.

After their gigs, One Direction and The Beatles followed Stu and Astrid to some house party. Louis knew that he needed sleep but he didn’t want to be the weak one that tapped out early. Louis supposed that he could always sleep when he’s dead.

Inside was dark and loud, music and the chattering of voices filled the air along with smoke and the smell of something that was strong but foreign to Louis’ nostrils. “Someone’s lighting up,” John said from behind him.

“What?” Louis blurted.

“Drugs, Louis,” John said with a smile, “drugs,” he took Louis’ wrist and pulled him into a room where people were all sitting in a circle passing around what Louis initially thought was just a cigarette.

“Come, sit,” one of the people in the group waved the pair over. People in the group shuffled around to make some space for John and Louis to sit in the circle.

It took a few puffs for Louis to feel the effects but when he did, he could not stop giggling. Louis dropped his face into the crook of John’s neck, trying to mute his chuckles. Louis became hyperaware of John’s touch. There was a hand on his back rubbing circles; Louis gave the hand his full attention. The hand was warm, really warm and it was getting warmer. The hand slipped under his shirt, rubbing and scratching lightly. Louis let out a small whimper.

“Are you okay?” Louis heard a voice from far away. He nodded into John’s neck, not wanting the touching to stop. The hand didn’t stop moving, it crept higher. Louis dropped his hand onto John’s thigh, holding it tight to steady himself. The hand reached his neck and then it dropped back down, lower than before, Louis felt it go down the back of his waistband and inside his briefs. Louis was burning up now, he could hear his own breathing, it sounded like heavy wind and Louis felt like he was being blown away. The hand was gripping each of Louis’ buttocks before fingers were dipping into Louis’ cleft. And then the hand was removed and Louis was being nudged up into a proper sitting position.

“What?” Louis said, blearily opening his eyes that he didn’t realise were closed.

“I think he’s had enough for the time being,” John was saying, not to him apparently. The joint was being passed in front of him and he wanted to reach out and grab it but his arms suddenly felt really heavy.

“John,” Louis whispered, head-butting the other man’s shoulder, “I don’t have arms,” he said, but that wasn’t what he meant so he laughed at his silly mouth for getting the words wrong.

“Okay, up you get, let’s move you outside,” John hauled Louis up, who stumbled a little while trying to find his feet, “let’s go, sweetheart,” he said, putting his hand on Louis’ lower back and guiding him through the house to the backyard area.

They sat down under a lemon tree. Giggling, Louis crawled around and collected all the lemon’s that had fallen off the tree. He put them in front of him in a line and counted them, “eight,” he said triumphantly.

“What are you goin’ to do with them now?” John asked, putting his hands out behind him and leaning back, his legs inadvertently fell open and Louis had to look away so John couldn’t see him blush.

“Don’t know,” Louis shrugged, fiddling with his pile a little, rolling them around and crashing them into each other, “eat them?” Louis suggested, looking up at John with a sweet smile.

“You can’t eat a lemon you berk,” John said, tugging out some grass and throwing it half-heartedly at Louis, most of it fell short or blew back onto John with the breeze.

“But I’m hungry,” Louis said, crossing his arms and giving a childish pout.

“Alright, up you get,” John commanded again, standing up and brushing off all the dirt and grass, “we’ll go raid the kitchens,”

Louis was famished and nothing he was eating seemed to fill him up. He looked up to complain to John about this but saw him whispering with Ringo. The drummer was handing something to John who accepted it with a nod.

“We’re going back outside,” John said, guiding Louis to follow after him. Louis decided that he sort of liked being led by John.

They were in the front yard now. Louis saw Harry and immediately bound up to him and pulled the curly boy into a crushing hug. Harry giggled and racked his hands through Louis’ hair.

Someone was pushing something cube-shaped into Louis’ hand and he heard Harry say, “what is that?”

“Acid,” John was saying and Louis looked up to see John put his own cubed-shape object in his mouth, Louis followed suit.

“Louis no!” Harry cried, trying to pry open Louis’ mouth but it was too late, the drug had been swallowed. “You stupid fucking prick,” and Louis couldn’t work out whether Harry was talking to John or him so he laughed, liking the sound of it so he laughed some more. “Give us some, then,” Harry was saying.

“What?” John asked, obviously confused. Louis didn’t understand much of what was happening all around him. He could hear noises and he could see faces but he didn’t know what it all meant.

“I’m not leaving him alone on LSD,” Harry said next to him. Louis didn’t understand. He wasn’t alone; he had his friends all around him. He could see Niall and Zayn leaning against each other; he could see Liam chatting up some bird. He could see all the people he knew, “I want to be with him,” Harry was saying and Louis wanted to answer _you are with me silly_ but he was suddenly afraid of his own tongue, afraid to open his mouth in case his tongue jumped out and announced everything that Louis was trying to keep inside.

“Alright,” John said, handing Harry something and the boy put it straight in his mouth.

Harry was looking at Louis. Louis was looking at Harry. Things got a little strange after that. Louis could have sworn that he was seeing through Harry’s eyes, he could see his own face. He could see the exhaustion and paleness. He could see the madness in his own eyes. They must have stood staring at each other for ages. Or maybe it was only a few seconds. Time was a confusing concept.

 

A few of them left the party and ambled a little way down the street. George and Niall were singing at the top of their lungs and walking with linked arms. Louis wondered what they were on but then, given his current state, that was a ridiculous thing for him to think.

John was walking with Paul, they were standing close and Louis felt something hot and uncomfortable pulse though his body. Harry was by his side though; Louis could feel him brushing against his shoulder.

Louis watched as Niall and George jumped on top of one of the cars in the street. They walked over the top of it before running to the next one and climbing on that too. Standing on the roof, they jumped up and down; a horrible crunching sound indicated that the roof was starting to cave in.

“Someone’s wallet is in there,” Paul pointed out as he peered through the window. Next thing John was approaching them with a thick branch, “What the fuck, where’d you get that from?” Paul cried, moving to the side as John wacked the branch into the car door window. It didn’t give, not even a little. Eventually, a small crack appeared and after a few more hits the window smashed.

Carefully reaching in through the shattered window, John took the wallet out and looked inside, “there’s enough in here for some more booze and a packet of ciggies,” the boys cheered and followed as John led the way to the nearest store.

Louis felt so wired, he felt like he could feel every part of his body. He could feel his blood rushing inside his veins, he could feel his cells multiplying, he could hear his heartbeat like it was the loudest thing in the world, he could hear everything that was happening inside his body.

“You okay?” someone was asking him, he couldn’t recognise the voice. He opened his mouth to speak but discovered that his teeth were missing, his fucking teeth were gone and Louis screamed, “calm down Louis, calm down,” the voice was saying.

“Arsehole, he’s fucking terrified,” that was Harry, Louis was sure of it, “he’s shaking,” hands were on him, more than two and Louis didn’t like the feeling of so many. He promptly shook them all off and stood up. The road was full of ants and bugs and Louis jumped from one foot to another to try and keep them off of him.

“Louis!” he heard, not Harry this time, not Harry. Where was Harry, was he gone? Harry said he wouldn’t leave him alone. “Louis, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Niall, it was Niall, sweet Niall, sweet blonde Niall.

Louis walked towards him and pulled the Irishman into his arms. Louis shut his eyes but he felt like they were reopened, he could see all kinds of colours and he could make out some sort of theme park with roller coasters and other flashing rides, “I’m really fucked up,” Louis said, falling out of Niall’s arms and onto the ground. When Louis opened his eyes again, the bugs were gone.

Harry was kneeling next to him, his beautiful angel Harry, “You didn’t leave me,” Louis said pathetically, letting his head roll to the side as he looked up at the boy.

“I’ll never leave you Louis,” Harry was saying, taking his hands and squeezing them tight.

“I’m scared,” Louis said, feeling himself shake. His stomach was clenching and his heart was beating triple time.

“So am I,” Harry agreed, putting his arms around Louis and rocking them both serenely. Louis felt like he could fall asleep but at the same time felt like he never needed sleep again.

It was the concept of time that messed Louis up more than anything. He couldn’t sense how much time was passing. He didn’t know whether it had been a minute or an hour. Every time Louis blinked it felt like an eternity and he was so worried that this trip would never end.

Louis didn’t remember much after being held by Harry. He remembered a little about walking back towards the hotel. At the time, Louis felt like he was moving in slow motion and he envisioned the road getting longer and longer, he swore that he was never going to get to the end of it.

Inside their hotel room, the two boys took off most of their clothes. Louis regretted it almost immediately. It was fucking cold, colder than England, colder than any place he had ever been. Louis climbed into Harry’s bed, snuggling next to the boy, wrapping his arms around him. They didn’t sleep at all; they stared at each other for most of the night but otherwise just lay there in silence. Louis never wanted to take LSD again.


	11. Chapter 11

John had been watching Louis and Harry for the better part of an hour. They were laughing and constantly had their hands on each other. John was getting more and more agitated; he was snapping at his band mates and scaring the birds off.

Tonight’s show was a split set. One Direction was going to do the first hour and then some shitty band would do an hour, One Direction would do another set, followed by the shitty band again and then John’s band finished the night with a two hour long gig.

The One Direction set was going fine and John had even started to ease up on his irritation, tapping his fingers to the beat and silently mouthing the words. Then it all changed. One Direction sang one of The Beatles’ songs, ‘I Saw Her Standing There.’ Now John was pissed.

John waited until the boys finished their set and he cornered Louis backstage, in the corner of the room, away from everyone, “What was that up there?” John asked, wanting to grab Louis and hurt him but equalling not wanting to touch the prick.

“We sang you’re song,” Louis said with a grin, looking over John’s shoulder at the rest of his band mates.

“What the fuck for?” John asked, getting as close as he could to Louis without touching him.

“Thought you’d like it,” Louis said as he awkwardly fiddled with the top button of his shirt, his smile was fading, “thought, you know, it’d be –”

“Cute?” John said in a mock falsetto, “Fucking hell, grow a pair would ya? You may take cock like a champ but you ain’t a bird,”

“Fuck you,” Louis said, glaring at John. And all at once John felt hot. Louis was looking at him with such fierce hatred and loathing and all of it was focused on _him._

“If that’s what you want,” John leered, pressing his chest against Louis’ and walking the boy backwards till he hit the wall. John put his arms on either side of Louis’ head, trapping the boy.

“John, please,” Louis had that nervous look in his eyes, the one he had last night when they were in the back garden. John knew there was something else in that look; he just had to push it a little.

“Tell me what you want,” John was saying, leaning back slightly so he could make out Louis’ face. The boys’ pupils were blown wide and he had a blush across his cheeks and nose. Louis looked like he was on something, or maybe he was still coming down from his trip the night before.

“John –” Louis said again, his voice a broken whisper, he tilted his head back against the wall and he was panting, mouth open slightly. John had the insane urge to kiss him right there. Louis was staring at John, “how did you know about the bar,”

John sighed, “fucking hell, why won’t you let that go?” he moved away from Louis only to find himself being grabbed by the shoulders and flipped around so his back was against the wall.

“Because you’re a confusing fucking arsehole and I can’t figure you out,” Louis looked determined; his hands were still on John, tight and making John squirm. “You like this,” he was saying and John didn’t appreciate how confident and arrogant Louis sounded, “you like when other boys touch you, and you like touching other boys,” Louis was referring to last night when John almost put his fingers up Louis’ arse in a room full of people. John was out of his mind on dope, but then he was almost always out of his mind anyway.

“I’m not –” John tried but was viscously cut off by Louis.

“Give it a fucking rest John,” Louis said, lifting John off the wall only to slam him back into it again, “do you even hear yourself?” he sneered, “Why did you come looking for me?” Louis was asking.

“Because of the song,” John answered. Obviously this was the wrong answer because Louis was slamming him into the wall again. Fuck, the boy was strong; John felt his arousal building at the thought.

John was squinting to try and make out Louis’ expression, he looked cruel but mischievous, “don’t lie,” Louis whispered, letting go of John’s shoulder with one hand and slipping it over John’s jeans, palming the space between his thighs.

“Fuck!” John groaned, his hips jolting off the wall and making Louis squeeze a little firmer. John tried to get his breathing under control, tried to keep him from panting like some wonton whore.

“You came here for this,” Louis was saying, roughly pressing his palm against John’s crotch  and moving in a sharp circular motion, “you said you’ve been watching me, what have you seen?”

“You dancing,” John said, embarrassingly hard and breathless, he felt ashamed and wanted to yank Louis’ hand away but he also didn’t want to give up this feeling, “your arse, your hands, your lips,”

“My lips?” Louis cut him off and John was glad to hear a slight strain in his voice, “where do you want them?”

“Everywhere,” John said bluntly. He looked at Louis challenging, trying to ignore the persistence of the boy’s hand, “especially on my cock.” John meant it as a joke, a challenge to sort of scare Louis off, to ease him off a little so that John could get control over himself again.

Louis didn’t back away. Instead he boldly slipped his hand inside John’s jeans, right into his briefs and brushed his palm over the naked sensitive head. “Fuck,” John cried, arching off the wall and hearing a groan get ripped from his throat.

 “I do want to suck your cock, John,” Louis said, lips close to his ear. John was completely overwhelmed by Louis’ words and touches. John wasn’t thinking as he lurched forward and captured Louis’ lips. Louis gave a surprised breathless sound that went straight to John’s prick. This was stupid and dangerous; they were backstage where anyone could walk in and see them.

Voices and footsteps made Louis reel backwards and John hated the needy disappointed sound that escaped past his lips. John reached out and took Louis’ hand leading them towards the backstage storage room.

John shoved Louis against the dusty couch against the back wall and proceeded to shut the door and push a table in front of it. John turned to see Louis on the couch, head thrown back as he palmed himself over his jeans. The boy was making the sexiest little noises that made John feel hot all over.

Slipping off his jacket and unbuttoning his top two buttons, John couldn’t take his eyes off of Louis. His movements were slow as he made his way over to the boy. John fully intended on grabbing Louis by the scruff of his neck and driving his prick down the beautiful boy’s lips, but he changed his mind when he saw the head of Louis’ cock poke out above his trousers.

John wanted it in his mouth. The intensity of John’s want took him completely by surprise as he walked towards the boy and knelt in front of him, pushing Louis’ thighs apart wider so he could slot in between. Louis looked down at him, dazed and confused, “I thought you wanted –” Louis started but stopped talking once John slapped his hand away from his cock.

“Sit up,” John commanded, fingers hooked inside Louis’ jeans and briefs. Louis did what he was told and raised his arse off the couch so that John could roughly pull the garments down. John completely removed them, leaving Louis naked from the waist down. Louis’ cock was resting heavy and pink against the boy’s lower stomach, it was full and thick, and John unconsciously licked his lips as he stared. “Even your cock is pretty,” John said aloud. He had never thought a cock to be particularly attractive before but apparently pretty-boy Louis Tomlinson had a fucking pretty cock too.

Louis chuckled nervously and goose bumps broke out across his thighs. “Been a while since I’ve done this,” John admitted before lightly pressing his lips to the underside of Louis’ prick. John was actually going to suck Louis off. Right now, in an abandoned store room back stage of a club full of people. John wasn’t quite sure how circumstance led him to be kneeling in between Louis’ naked thighs and he certainly wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Switching off his brain, John mouthed against the base of Louis’ cock, leaving behind a shiny strip of saliva.

After barely a whisper of a touch, Louis was already swearing and lifting his hips off the couch. John had forgotten how good this felt, how good it was to have someone lose control under his touch, especially another man. Spreading his hands across Louis’ thighs, John dipped low and took one of Louis’ balls into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. A chorus of _shit shit shit_ from above spurred him on as he took the other into his mouth and gave it the same treatment.

John’s nose was brushing slightly against the base of Louis’ cock. Breathing in through his nose, John felt a little dizzy and lightheaded from the smell of Louis. John knew that this was going to be overwhelming for him. As John paid special attention to Louis’ balls, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down a little to free his own trapped cock.

“Stop – teasing – me,” Louis breathed, and when John looked up at the boy he had one of his hands fisted in his hair and was shaking his head from side to side. The kid looked absolutely wrecked and desperate.

John smirked against the base of Louis’ cock as he slowly kissed his way up to the head. “Patience,” John prompted before putting his mouth completely around the head and sucking lightly. Louis’ entire body jerked off the couch, making it difficult for John to keep the boy’s cock in his mouth.

“Stop moving or I’ll bite you’re dick off,” John said, licking around the middle of Louis’ prick, making it wet and messy with spit. 

Louis’ eyes flew open, “That’d make me scream,” and the idea of Louis _screaming_ made John quickly grasp his own cock to stop himself from coming right then and there.

“Fucking hell,” John murmured, taking a moment to get his breathing and thoughts under control, before putting his mouth back on Louis again. Louis was well behaved this time, he wasn’t moving as much and John appreciated it, he didn’t particularly want to die from choking on a dick.

John took as much of Louis as he could into his mouth and covered the rest with his hand. Louis’ moaning encouraged John to suck harder and move faster, he felt his wet lips bounce against his fisted hand. John’s jaw was aching but he would have done just about anything to keep Louis making those desperate noises.

John tried to coordinate his movements so that he could jerk himself at the same time as suck Louis off, but he was completely out of practice and it wasn’t working. Instead, John collected the pre-cum from his own cock and put his wet fingers in the area behind Louis’ balls and just above his opening. Louis gave a long drawn out moan and his back was arching in an attempt not to lift his hips up. John worked his fingers lower and it felt dirty and wrong to have his own cum-drenched fingers travel down Louis’ backside but _fuck_ John loved it.

Just as John was about to breach Louis’ entrance the boy completely tensed up and John stopped because – _fuck_ – what if the kid really didn’t want this? “Is this –” John panted, letting Louis’ cock fall out of his mouth and slap back down onto the boy’s stomach, “okay? We can not if –” John broke off and stopped touching Louis as he looked up at the other boy. Louis looked so fuckable right now, his shirt was rucked up, his hair was messy from his hands gripping it, his face was flushed and sweaty, his lips were red and wet from being bitten and his eyes were shiny and dazed.

“You can,” Louis said, his voice small and vulnerable, croaking a little. He started twisting his body to present his backside to John and yeah John’s cock twitched a little with interest. The boy was stretched out, his elbows resting against the back of the couch as his spine was arched in order to get his arse up as high as possible. Louis looked gorgeous.

“Do you want this?” John asked, placing a gentle hand on Louis’ lower back. Louis didn’t say anything, just dropped his forehead against the back of the couch and spread his thighs wider. John didn’t miss the way they shook as the moved. “Louis, tell me what you want me to do,” John asked, taking his hand off the boy.

Louis sighed, “Do what you did before,” he said meekly, and John’s heart broke a little at the tremor in his voice, “Can you just – that’s all I want,” Louis still didn’t face John but lowered his body completely onto the couch.

“Turn around luv,” John coaxed softly, helping Louis get back into a sitting position, “let me take care of you,” John said as he took Louis into his hand again. He kneeled between the boy’s legs and guided Louis back into his mouth. Louis started whimpering and moaning softly again and John couldn’t take his eyes off the boy’s face. The heat was building again inside John’s belly with every little pant and flutter of the boy’s eye lashes. John licked and sucked and did more of the things that Louis made the loudest noises at.

“John I’m –” Louis cried, his voice hasty and frantic.

John hummed around the boys cock, accepting the new information and opening his throat wider, still swirling his tongue around the base and enticing Louis to his orgasm. Louis swore under his breath as his body tensed under John’s touch. John swallowed as much as he could and let the rest sort of dribble down his chin onto the floor. Louis’ body started to relax again, his breathing was settling back down and his skin was returning to its normal colour.

John stood, dusted off his aching knees, and flopped down onto the couch next to Louis. John felt a little bubble of terror and disgust raise in his chest but he quenched it for the moment, stretching his arm on the couch behind Louis. As John closed his eyes and started to doze off, he felt a small hand on his thigh. John caught the hand and held it down.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he whispered, pulling the boy closer to his side, “m’fine.” Louis made a noise to protest but John pulled the boy into his chest and closed his eyes, “shhh,” he said.

Just before John fell asleep, he heard a small voice, “Thanks for asking,” Louis was saying and John didn’t want to think about the times people had used this beautiful boy without getting permission, John held the small boy a little tighter to his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

Louis woke up to the sounds of incessant knocking. He sat up quickly and hit something with the back of his head. “Aah, fuck!” A voice cried from next to him, Louis looked around to see John groggily opening his eyes and rubbing his chin. That must have been what Louis hit with his head.

“Sorry,” Louis said shyly, voice hoarse.

The knocking didn’t stop. Someone was shouting through the door now, “Aah shite it’s Brian, me manager,” John shuffled around the room to collect his jacket and threw Louis’ pants at him.

“I can hear you in there, John?” The voice was yelling, still pounding on the door.

“Alright, ya ponce!” John yelled back, “gimmi a sec, I’m in here with a bird, naked,” he lied, putting one arm through his jacket and walking back over to Louis.

“I don’t give a toss about your bare arse. I want you on stage,” John’s manager called.

John smirked at Louis then. Louis wondered what was going through John’s head. He got his answer as soon as John started to strip, “what the fuck are you doing?” Louis whispered, aghast.

“Shh,” John said, putting his index finger in front of his lips, “Mmm, I can still taste you,” he murmured, probably mostly to himself. Louis felt his face heat up; the thought of John performing on stage with the taste of Louis’ spunk in his mouth was certainly a pleasant one.

John kept taking his clothes off until he stood in front of Louis completely naked. Louis’ eyes immediately drifted to the boy’s cock and unconsciously licked his lips at the sight. John made a soft noise and Louis looked up to see the boy staring at his lips.

John didn’t say anything else. He spun around, pushed the table away from the door (giving Louis a lovely view of John’s pert arse) and ran out the door. Louis could hear Brian’s indignant cry and John’s laughter as well as footsteps as the pair ran towards the stage.

Chuckling to himself, Louis lazily put his trousers back on. He sat for a short while, a little disorientated about how much time had passed while he was sleeping. It was obviously still the same night if John’s band still had to perform. Leisurely walking out of the storeroom he saw Harry leaning against the far wall. Louis smiled but the boy didn’t react at all.

“What’s up?” Louis asked, walking towards Harry.

“What’s up?” Harry echoed in disbelief, “Lou, you missed our last gig,” he said, face tinged red from embarrassment and probably anger as he avoided Louis’ eyes.

Oh shit! He slept through One Direction’s last set for the night. Why didn’t he realise that when he found out The Beatles were performing on stage now? “Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

“Where were you?” Harry asked, looking behind Louis towards the storeroom.

Louis tried his hardest not to look guilty. “I – erm – fell asleep,” he said stupidly.

“In the storeroom?” Harry asked, nodding his head towards the room in question.

“Yeah,” Louis said, looking around awkwardly and shuffling from side to side.

“John came running out of there before,” Harry said, face turning redder than before, “he was naked,”

Louis’ heart hammered in his chest all of a sudden, his palms started sweating and his thoughts were flying in all different directions, trying desperately to come up with an explanation. “He – uhm – we – aah – it’s not what is looks like?” Louis spoke, words broken apart like his tongue was made of sharp jagged glass.

Harry looked uncomfortable and sort of cross, although it wasn’t like their irregular and tumultuous relationship gives Harry license to look like that. It wasn’t like they were fucking married or dating or anything even remotely close to that. Harry had made _THAT_ pretty clear.

Louis looked at Harry, straight in his eyes, “I don’t owe you an explanation anyway, it really isn’t any of your business,” Louis put enough malice in his voice to make Harry physically flinch. Shaking his head, Louis brushed passed Harry and headed back to where the audience was.

Everyone was laughing and cheering and when Louis looked on the stage he saw why. John was stark naked and singing. A guitar was slung low across his hips to cover his cock and balls but John kept cheekily lifting it up to give everyone a peak. Eventually, John was dragged off stage by the bouncers and a man Louis assumed was John’s manager.

Louis spotted his band mates in the corner near the stage and quickly turned to make his way towards the bar. As he ordered a pint, he tried really hard to think of an explanation for his disappearance. Louis knew that Harry probably didn’t tell the boys about John so maybe he just needed – Louis looked down the bar and saw a nice looking blonde bird standing on her own.

Louis approached her and bluntly said, “I’m going to need you to pretend we have sex so my band mates don’t suspect what I’ve actually been up to,”

The girl choked on her drink, “excuse me?” she asked.

Louis widened his eyes, “oh, you’re English,” he said in surprise, recognising her accent, “I thought you were German,” Louis said sheepishly.

“Is this how you pick up women?” The girl asked, watching him with an amused glint in her eye.

“My lines are usually better,” Louis said with a wink, easily slipping into the flirting routine he had basically perfected after years of practising with girls in various bars.

The girl laughed, looking at him curiously, “which band are you in?”

“One Direction,”

“Oh the one before The Beatles?” The girl looked at him closer, squinting her eyes, “I don’t recognise you,” the girl said suspiciously, looking Louis up and down.

“I missed the last set,” Louis answered, awkwardly looking over his shoulder to try and find his boys, “I was, uhm –” he broke off, not sure how to finish _that_ sentence.

“Having sex with me?” The girl said, quickly ordering a drink and sliding some coins across the table. “That’s what you want your band mates to think, right?” Louis looked at the girl with slight admiration; she was certainly an observant one.

“Aye,” Louis said, leaning a little closer to the girl and lowering his voice, “think you can help me out with that?”

The girl looked around the room with a bored expression, though Louis knew that it was fake, she had a gleeful shine to her eyes. Looking back at Louis, she tilted her head inquisitively, “You would rather have your band mates think you missed a set because you were fucking a stranger?” she paused to take a sip from her glass, “You must have been doing something really naughty,” she said, leaning in close to Louis’ ear before shoving him back playfully.

Louis was about to say something when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, “where the fuck were you mate?” he heard Zayn’s voice from behind him. Turning around to face the boy, he saw all his band mates were there and all of them were wearing identical frowns.

“Uhm – I – uhm,” Louis stuttered, not used to being frowned at by his boys. They had never ganged up on him like this before, he had never given them a reason to he supposed.

“Sorry that was my fault,” the girl by Louis’ side spoke up, “I tired him out,” she said, putting her small hand on Louis’ forearm and leaning into his side. Louis looked down at her and she gave him a soft smile and a wink.

“You got laid during our set?” Niall asked, his tone was mostly filled with irritation but Louis could detect some amazement in his voice. Trust Niall to be impressed with his behaviour.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, looking down at the floor, unable to meet the boys’ eyes, “I must have fallen asleep afterwards, I’m so sorry, I know you hate me,” Louis was whispering now, and he felt like he was about to cry as he took a shuddering breath.

“Mate it’s okay,” Liam was saying, putting his hand on Louis’ shoulder, “we were mostly worried about you, we thought something bad was happening,” Louis looked up so see Liam throw a quick look to the girl by his side, “obviously nothing bad was happening,” he said awkwardly.

Everyone cracked up then, even the girl beside Louis, who stood up abruptly and kissed Louis on the lips, “I’ll see you around, stud,” she said, winking at Louis before walking away from the group.

Niall whistled and Louis turned around with a blush, catching Harry’s eyes. Harry was looking at Louis like he had disappointed the boy personally, and Louis couldn’t handle it so he ran off after the girl.

“Hey, wait!” He called out, easily finding the long blond hair in the crowd, “I want to thank you,”

She turned to face him, “It’s no bother, happy to help out a rock star,”

Louis ducked his head in embarrassment, “not a rock star,” he murmured. Louis gave a smile after hearing the girl giggle, “what’s your name?” he asked, looking back up at her.

“Diana,” she said shyly, like they were meeting for the first time.

“Diana,” Louis repeated, taking the girls hand and kissing it, “I’ll write a song about you one day,” he said with a smile as he dropped her hand.

“I look forward to listening to it,” Diana said with a kind smile, before looking behind Louis. “Do you want to hear something interesting?” she asked Louis, putting a soft hand on his shoulder. Louis nodded. “The curly one knew it was all bullshit, but he didn’t say anything,” the girl said, keeping eye contact with Louis, “there’s something in that, I’m sure,” she patted Louis on the shoulder before turning away for the last time and walking through the crowd. The girl really was observant; Louis noted with only some annoyance, he wished other people could be as observant.

To his side, Louis caught a quick movement behind an open door. Curiously creeping a little closer, he saw John (fully clothed) was in there with someone. It was the guy who pulled John off the stage; the one Louis thought to be John’s manager. They were arguing about something, their heads were bowed low towards each other and they were speaking fast and short.

Before Louis could react, John lifted his head and spotted Louis standing just outside the door. Louis felt stuck to the floor, like his legs were made of lead and couldn’t remember how to move. John gave Louis the nastiest glare Louis had ever seen on the boy’s face, and he physically recoiled away. Louis was stupid to think that things would be different, better even. Going by John’s expression, things were worse. The image of John’s glare was seared into Louis’ brain and he wondered whether John would ever look at him differently again.

Louis stumbled backwards away from the room and went to find his boys. When Louis sat down at the table with them all, he was fully intent on ignoring Harry. However, when he glanced up to look at the boy, Harry was pointedly not acknowledging his presence at all. Louis had never felt more alone.


	13. Chapter 13

John was avoiding Louis. This proved to be pretty easy because it seemed like Louis was also avoiding him. Out of annoyance, John was snapping at all his band mates and he had a massive falling out with Stu after the boy mistakenly tried to tell John to calm down and he nearly knocked Stu out cold.

The band was tiptoeing around John and he wasn’t sure whether he appreciated it or if it just made him angrier. In the space of one morning, John managed to declare Ringo the worst drummer in the world and threaten to drop him from the group; insult George’s new song he was working on and nearly making the kid cry; and worst of all, tell Paul he wasn’t interested on collaborating in song writing anymore. John was singlehandedly dismantling his own band.

John needed space. He stormed out of the room, snagging a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of Paul’s discarded jacket. John stumbled into the early morning cold air, his hands shaking as he attempted to light his cigarette. On the fourth go, the end of his fag managed to catch alight and he took a deep inhale and sighed, letting the smoke billow out of his mouth and nose. John instantly felt more relaxed.

With a calmer mind, John thought about his argument with Brian last night/earlier this morning. The ponce fucker knew that Louis was in the room with John when he ran out naked. Brian warned him about the consequences of such actions. Angry at being put on the spot, John shouted something back about Brian being jealous about John not sucking his cock and Brian was silenced. John knew that the gay fucker fancied him; he even enjoyed the sexual power he had over his manager.

“Think about Cyn,” Brian had said and fuck John almost hit the prick right then. Think about Cyn? That was the last thing John wanted to do. Think about his future marriage and fatherhood? That was not a road John wanted to go down just yet. Or think about the disappointment and disgust Cyn will surely feel once she figures out what John’s been doing with his mouth. John didn’t bloody want a wife or a kid. He wanted freedom, not a cage and chains.

When John had caught sight of Louis out of the corner of his eye, he sneered at the boy. Fucking fag Louis spreading his fagness all over John, making him act like a pervert, making him go to gay bars and suck cock. John silently made a pact to avoid Louis; the fairy was making too much trouble for John.

 _Think about Cyn_ , John thought bitterly to himself. Taking his last drag, John tossed the ciggie on the ground and crushed it beneath his foot. _Time to face the music_ , he thought, making his way back into the club.

When John returned backstage, he overheard a concerned Paul comforting a sniffling George, “you can’t listen to him when he’s like that,” Paul was saying, crouching near the boy and rubbing his back, “he’s hurtin’ and lashing out,” John paused and wondered how Paul figured him out, was he that obvious?

“He’s not hurting, he’s just a prick,” Ringo called from the other side of the room. Maybe he wasn’t obvious; maybe it was just Paul who had figured out that he was having trouble.

“Johnny’s our mate, he needs us,” Paul insisted, “and we need him, we need him in our life and we certainly need him in the band,” John felt his heart grow at Paul’s kind words, words that Paul probably wouldn’t say to John’s face out of fear that he would call him a sap.

“Alright fuckers, let’s get back to work,” John called out as he strode into the room. He was greeted with silence so he picked up his guitar and sat on a stool in the middle of the room. “Let’s do Geo’s new song first,” he said, looking at George. It was as close to an apology that anyone in the room was going to get.

George was picking up his own guitar and smiling. Ringo sat back behind his drum kit and did a few practice taps on the cymbals. Paul came over, sat on the stool in front of John and gave him an appreciative nod. John was forgiven by the group.

 

John and Paul were left behind, while the other two boys retreated back to their beds. Paul was taking his time, slowly packing up his guitar and John was just waiting for the prick to say something, “George was pretty upset today, you know,” he said. John should have moved faster, should have left the same time as the other two. “Is this about Louis?”

“Fuck off,” John said, being a little too forceful when putting his guitar in the case.

“Johnny,” Paul sighed.

“Paulie,” John said back, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

The two boys packed up the rest of their things in silence. “Goin’ back to the hotel?” Paul asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside John.

“Nah,” John said, still feeling the buzz of the prellies he took late last night.

“Okay,” Paul said. He opened his mouth to say more but seemed to think better of it and shook his head. “See ya later then,” Paul patted John on the shoulder and shuffled out of the room. John watched him go.

Looking outside the back window, John saw the sun rising, giving the curtains a slight orange tinge. John made his way outside, craving the feel of the sun’s warmth. Standing in the middle of the empty street, John closed his eyes and felt the sunrays brush against him, caressing him with soft open palms and tracing over his skin with forgiving fingertips.

The sound of a car horn jarred John back into awareness, he just stepped out of the way as the car raced passed him. John continued to watch the sunrise as he slowly made his way down the road. He didn’t know where he was going until he got there. He was in the park right near Louis’ hotel. John perched himself on the same bench he sat on when Louis and Lux found him the other day. And he waited, closing his eyes against the sunset, the higher the sun got the warmer he felt.

“You been to bed yet mate?” John jerked at the noise, feeling like the whole world tilted around him. He had to throw his arms out to keep his balance. There was laughter in front of him. Blinking a few times, he looked up and squinted, just making out the smiling face of Louis. “You look like shite,” the boy was saying and John got a strange sense of déjà vu.

John opened his eyes fully, checking Louis’ shoulders, “no little one then?” he said, yawning and sitting up properly on the bench. He checked his pockets for cigarettes and found only a lighter.

“Nah, Lux is still asleep, it’s still early,” Louis said, kneeling down to pick something up off the ground before throwing it into John’s lap. The cigarettes. Thank fuck! “No guitar this time?” The boy asked, taking a seat next to John.

“Nah, reckon I’ve had enough of it for today,” he said, quickly lighting his cigarette and taking a couple of drags.

“Why are you called The Beatles anyway?” Louis said, making conversation, “Sounds kinda weird,”

John frowned at the boy, “Weird?”

“When you say the name it sounds like you’re talking about bugs,” Louis explained, “people hate bugs. You won’t get far with that band name,”

“Why are you called One Direction?” John countered, “Sounds kinda stupid, one direction where? One direction straight into the girls’ panties?” he said, waggling his eye brows.

Louis laughed, “One direction straight?” he joked.

John smirked, “One direction straight into the lads’ pants,”

“One direction straight into prison,” Louis said sombrely, and the joking stopped there as the thought of illegal activities sobered them up.

“The crickets,” John said finally.

“What?”

“Buddy Holly had a band called The Crickets,” John explained, taking another couple of puffs from his cigarette, “me and Stu loved ‘em so we called ourselves The Silver Beatles, the ‘silver’ got dropped later,”

John nodded, “Harry came up with our name; don’t know how, he just thought of it,”

“Lame story man, you’ll have to make something up,” John said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “something uplifting, like ‘one direction means that we’re only heading in one direction, straight to the top,’ or some shit,” John shrugged.

“I’ll have to remember that one for interviews,” Louis said smiling. John had no idea whether the boy was being serious of not.

They sat in silence for a while, John smoking a cigarette and Louis just staring forward at the sun. “Who exactly does the kid belong to?” John asked suddenly.

“Lux?” Louis checked, John nodded, “we have a stylist that picks our clothes and does out hair all nice – she brought Lux along,”

“Ooh a stylist,” John mocked lightly, dropping his spent cigarette on the ground and stepping on it, “you have quite a team with you,” he commented. John always saw One Direction with a big group of people; it was like they already were famous, “how do you pay them all?”

Louis looked uncomfortable, staring down at his hands, “Our boss Simon pays them. He’s sort of rich,” Louis coughed awkwardly, “he was the one that sort of kept us together, reckons he can get us to the top,” Louis sounded unsure.

“Lucky bastards,” John said. It was quiet again. John’s fingers itched to light another cigarette.

“Hey,” Louis said, breaking the silence, “I’m sorry about last night,” he said awkwardly and John frowned at him, “I didn’t mean to leave you high and dry, sorry if I disappointed you,” Louis looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should even be acknowledging what happened last night, he looked small and uncertain. Out of nowhere, John had the urge to collect Louis into his arms and coddle the boy.

Instead, John put his hand on Louis’ shoulder and said, “It’s alright mate, I didn’t want to do anythin’ you didn’t want to do, I’m not like that,”

Louis looked at him and gave a sad smile, “I wanted it to feel good,” he said, a blush forming across his cheeks but he still held John’s gaze, “sex so rarely feels good, usually it’s hard and fast. It’s like the men just want to get it over with, like they’re punishing me for their feelings,” Louis said sadly and John fought hard not to get angry at those men, knowing it would probably upset the boy more.

“I could make you feel good,” John said, putting his arm on the back of the bench behind Louis. He tried to make himself sound less intimidating and more inviting, “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, putting a hand on Louis’ thigh. All of a sudden, Louis went shy. He wasn’t looking at John and had his head down, but he didn’t move away. _This is ridiculous_ , John thought, _I’ve had his cock in my mouth and he’s acting like a timid virgin_.

John briefly wondered how this would look to passer-by’s. John had his arm around another boy and was leaning over him with a provocative hand high on the boy’s thigh.

Louis looked up at him, not quite meeting John’s eyes, “you’re nicer in the daylight,” he said, leaning his forehead against John’s shoulder, “must be the sun,” and John couldn’t help but agree.

John moved his hand higher, holding his breath and fearing that he’d get slapped away. Louis let him go, letting his head fall backwards and sighing softly, his thighs fell open even further. John felt heat pool in his belly as he brushed his fingers over Louis’ crotch. The boy moaned outright and John was made aware of just how fucking hard he was right now, and not even from being touched, just from touching another person, another boy.

Louis was lifting his hips off the bench, trying to get closer to John’s hand. If they didn’t take this somewhere else, John was going to have his hand down Louis’ pants right in the middle of the park in broad daylight, “please,” Louis was whispering, “please, please, please,”

“What, luv?” John whispered, too scared to check if anyone was nearby, too scared to look up and find eyes watching, instead he put his face into Louis’ neck and kissed the boy just behind the ear, “what, c’mon, tell me,” he demanded, his entire body felt hot, he could hear loud breathing but he didn’t know whether it was his own or Louis’, maybe it was both.

“H-Harry’s not in the hotel room,” Louis was blubbering, eyes tightly closed as John kept putting pressure on Louis’ crotch, circling his hand and squeezing lightly, lips still pressed behind the boys ear, “take me, take me there,”

John jumped up and grabbed Louis by the wrist, dragging the delirious looking boy towards his hotel room. John’s mind was racing, he had images of Louis laid out on a bed, naked and shaking, shiny with sweat, images of his own hands gripping Louis’ hips, caressing the soft skin. John felt savage and overrun by desire.

They got to the room and John basically picked the smaller boy up and threw him down on the closest bed. John cruelly hoped that this was Harry’s bed; he quite liked the thought of fucking Louis in the same place the curly boy had been sleeping.

John was on top of Louis, kissing him fiercely, and it was the only sensation that mattered. The throbbing hardness of his cock and the shape of Louis’ body under him took the backseat as John focused on the wet slide of their tongues and the clash of their teeth. John moved his mouth to Louis’ neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, he was branding Louis, wanting people to see it and wonder who gave it to him.

“Too many clothes,” Louis was saying, frantically trying to unbutton John’s shirt, his fingers were shaking but he had a determined look in his eyes. John was surprised that Louis could still speak; John obviously wasn’t working hard enough.

Helping each other with zips and buttons, eventually their clothing was pulled off and thrown out of the way, each of them sighed as they got the skin-on-skin they craved. Kissing again, John positioned himself between Louis’ legs, spreading and lifting the boy’s thighs so he could press their naked cocks together.

Louis was mumbling, throwing his head from side to side and moaning nonsense, not words just sounds mushed together. This was more like it. This is what John wanted, Louis being reduced to a mess of sobs and moans, not able to sound out words, only make senseless babble.

Louis had his arms thrown across John’s shoulders and was trying desperately to push back against John’s thrusts. John had his hands on either side of Louis’ body, keeping him steady as he jerked against the warm pulsating body beneath his. This wasn’t going to be enough for John and it probably wasn’t going to be enough for Louis either, the boy was frowning and looking distressed, they both needed more.

“Lou,” John panted against Louis’ cheek, “can I –” he started to say, moving one of his hands underneath Louis’ backside, kneading each buttock in turn, strategically keeping his fingers away from places that they might disappear into, “please,” John was begging, hips still thrusting against Louis’.

Louis didn’t tense this time, he tried to say something but he couldn’t, it was all getting to be too much for him. John eased off a little, slowing his thrusting and letting Louis calm down a bit, “lube,” the boy was saying, “lube in Harry’s draw,” and he pointed to the nearest side table and a rush of heat went through John’s body when it was confirmed that this was in fact Harry’s bed.

Pulling away from Louis, the small boy gave an anguished cry, opening and closing his hands in the air to try and get John back, “it’s okay baby, I’m just here,” John said, quickly rummaging through the top draw. He found a nearly empty bottle of lube (John didn’t want to think about what _that_ meant) and he pulled a condom out of the packet too, half to be safe and half to stress Harry out when he realised a condom was missing from his stash. John smiled evilly.

Crawling back up the bed, John laid on his stomach, face pressed against Louis’ thigh. John poured some of the lube onto his fingertips as he kissed along Louis’ thigh. At the same time John breached Louis’ entrance he encircled the boys cock with his mouth, distracting the boy as he worked him open. John moaned around Louis’ cock, the boy was tight, tighter than he expected, it might take a little while to stretch him out.

Louis was vibrating all around him, making noises of discomfort and pleasure. John looked up at Louis, the boy was laid out on his back and his face was scrunched up in confusion, like he couldn’t work out how he could feel pain and pleasure at the same time. John kept sucking and moving his fingers carefully, he began thrusting against the bed sheets to help give his cock some friction, something to ease the throbbing.

John knew exactly when he found the spot he was looking for, Louis’s entire body lurched off the bed and an indignant “what the fuck??” sounded through the room. Louis looked down at John’s face, his expression wild, and he demanded, “more!” before settling back down on the bed.

John had three fingers deep in Louis, he used his middle finger to prod against Louis’ prostate and used the other two to widen Louis further, making enough space to accommodate his width. John dribbled more lube inside Louis, making the boy dripping wet and John’s cock was twitching madly at the thought of being inside there.

Louis let out another anguished cry as John withdrew his fingers, “calm down,” John was saying, as he knelt in between Louis’ legs, quickly rolling on a condom and lubing up his entire length.  He kept one hand on his cock and put a steadying hand on Louis’ thigh, spreading the boy’s legs wider. John was surprised at how flexible Louis was.

John guided himself in and met very little resistance from Louis’ ring of muscles, John had prepared him well. Both of them sighed as John’s cock fell deeper into Louis, right until John had his balls pressed against Louis’ back side. John opened his eyes, that he didn’t realise had fallen closed, and looked down at Louis. The boy was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, he had his eyes clenched closed and his mouth wide open, he wasn’t making a sound.

John kept himself deep inside, thrusting shallowly to keep some sort of movement going but otherwise waited for a sign from the other boy. John took a hold of Louis’ neglected cock, jerking him a few times and Louis eyes flew open, they were darker than John had ever seen them. The pair just stared at each other for a moment; John was still buried inside and fisting Louis’ prick. Eventually, Louis spoke up, “okay,” he said, voice coming out in a broken gasp, “move,”

John didn’t need to be told twice. He started slow, but at Louis’ commands he sped up faster and faster until he had to let go of Louis’ cock so he could plant both hands on the bed to keep himself steady, his balls were slapping against Louis now and it sounded deliciously dirty.

John leaned down with the intension of kissing Louis. However, they found that they couldn’t coordinate their movements very well. Instead they frantically mouthed against any part of each other’s face they could reach. Louis’ hands were all over the place, trying to find a place to rest, eventually John took both hands within his, intertwined their fingers, and pressed them flat against the bed.

John wondered whether Louis could come just from this, or whether John would have to suck or wank him off afterwards. John got his answer when Louis’ body suddenly tensed and John felt the wet spurt of the boy’s spunk on his chest and stomach. The boy’s body clenching and convulsing around John’s cock sent him over the edge too as he shot his load into the condom before carefully pulling out and lying on his back next to Louis. They were pressed shoulder to shoulder because the bed was tiny.

John tied the end of the condom off before dropping it on the floor and wiping his spilt spunk on Louis arm, “That’s grotty!” Louis complained, lightly hitting John with the back of his hand, still out of breath.

“Oh don’t start,” John said as he rolled his eyes, “I’m the one covered in _your_ lad batter” he said, running his fingers over the mess on his chest.

Only the sound of silent breathing could be heard. Louis shuffled a little closer to John’s side and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “thank you for making it good,” the boy said and John put his arm around Louis’ shoulder to pull him closer.


	14. Chapter 14

John was sitting on the edge of the bed when Louis woke up. Louis twisted his torso slightly and rested his bare feet on John’s back, shoving him playfully. John turned his head and gave Louis the softest smile Louis had ever seen on John’s face. Louis could get used to waking up like this, seeing John every morning before anyone else could get to him, before he put his defences up and played the tortured soul, misunderstood by all. John fell backwards into the bed and shuffled until he was leaning over Louis, arms on either side of Louis’ head.

They were kissing and touching like this was a normal thing, like this had been happening for as long as they could remember. Louis wanted to keep John like this, keep him soft and affectionate, keep him smiling and laughing.

Eventually Louis’ stomach growled and they both started laughing. Louis checked the clock on the side table; it was just after 3pm. They’d been sleeping for a couple of hours and Harry wasn’t back yet. Or maybe he did come back, Louis’ heart seized at the thought, maybe he did come back and see Louis and John tangled in the sheets of his own bed.

“He hasn’t been back,” John was saying, an edge to his voice, as he pulled on his clothing and chucked some over to Louis, “I haven’t slept, and he hasn’t been here. We should get moving though,” he stumbled a little while putting his shoes on.

“Okay,” Louis said, moving slowly, careful not to strain any of his tender muscles. Louis was surprised about how little his arse hurt, usually after sex he was sore for ages, sometimes he wouldn’t be able to sit properly for days. He felt sore, but it was a good kind of sore, like he’d been working out for hours, it was a reminder of what had happened and he kind of liked that. “Let’s go,” Louis said, fully dressed.

The pair safely snuck out of Louis’ hotel room and unspokenly made their way to John’s hotel. As they walked, John lit a cigarette and passed it to Louis.

“So, you’re band,” John started to say, and then stopped as if he had nothing else to say on the matter.

“Yeah?” Louis prompted, handing John back his cigarette.

“You auditioned for the talent event solo,” John said. Louis had no idea he even knew about the band’s beginnings, Louis supposed one of his band mates told him or maybe John overheard something, “do you ever wish you stayed as a solo artist?”

Louis shook his head vehemently “No way! I suggested it originally, staying together as a band. Solo stuff wasn’t my strong point,” he admitted, not wanting to give John a sob story about how hopeless he thought he was and how undeserving he felt to be a part of such an amazing group, “I wanted to be in a band to begin with, but no one I knew at the time was keen,”

“Worked out for ya though, didn’t it?” John pointed out.

“Certainly did,” Louis said, “I hope we make it,” he said hopefully. Louis had fantasied so many times about singing on stages to massive crowds, doing this for a living, but he never actually believed it would happen for him.

“They’d rip you to shreds if they knew what you were,” John commented and Louis could see the boy looking at him sidelong.

“I’d keep that a secret,” Louis said steadfastly, knowing that if he didn’t it would jeopardise not only his own career but the careers of four other people, “My own band mates don’t even know,” he admitted in a small voice.

John stopped walking, “You haven’t told them?!” he said in disbelief.

Louis stopped walking too and stood in front of John, “I can’t tell them, I tried but it was too hard. But like, I think they know, we’ve never spoken about it but I think they suspect something. I’ve never exactly been subtle about it,” Louis said remembering all the times the boys had seen him wince while sitting down or catch him wandering back from late nights with bruises on his arms shaped like fingers. “I don’t want to break up the band, you know?”

Louis nodded. They were still standing in the street, avoiding each other’s eyes but still watching each other, “You haven’t even talked to Harry about it?” John asked.

“Harry’s different,” Louis said, almost defensively, he wasn’t sure where that tone of voice came from, “I never told him, but – he knows,” he said, probably confirming John’s suspicions. Louis had seen John watching him with Harry. He had seen John’s brow crease when he touched Harry or even stood anywhere near the boy. Louis kind of liked how John reacted during those moments.

John dropped his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out, “So, what is he then? You know –” he broke off and Louis saw a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

Louis was momentarily confused, before he realised what John was really asking. Louis smirked, “He was whatever I needed him to be,”

Louis ignored the way he said ‘was’, if John noticed he didn’t acknowledge it, “And what did you need him to be?” the boy asked, looking straight down now, seeming to be very interested in a branch that had blown on the road.

Louis paused, he waited for John to look back up at him again, and when the boy did, Louis tilted his head to the side teasingly, “I needed him to be bent over an amp backstage in the rehearsal room,” he said, catching his tongue between his teeth and jerking his eye brows upwards.

John maintained eye contact with Louis, he seemed to be having an internal struggle with himself, he kept opening his mouth and closing it again. Finally, in a small broken voice, he asked, “Why didn’t you need me to be like that?”

Louis scoffed, almost laughed outright at the thought, “Because you’re John-fucking-Lennon, you want control over everyone,” Louis had his arms spread wide like a preacher, mimicking how he saw John to be, someone who wanted to hold the entire world within his arms.

John slipped his hands into his pockets and dropped his head down, tucking his chin into his jacket. He looked so vulnerable and childlike. Louis didn’t know what to do with this version of John. “What if I told you that I didn’t always want control?” John asked in a small voice.

It was supposed to be an invitation but Louis was too shocked to answer it, “You’d let me do that?” He asked instead. “You’d let me –” Louis’ cock twisted in interest, heat stirred in his lower belly.

“Say it then,” John said with irritation, it was a challenge but his voice shook at the end.

Louis turned his back on John for a moment and without looking back he warned, “Don’t play games,” The thought of Louis being inside John was too much, he couldn’t let himself think about it if it wasn’t going to happen.

“Fucking say it,” John demanded, roughly grabbing Louis by the shoulder and spinning him around, “ask me.” John was right up in Louis’ face, their noses were brushing lightly together and Louis could smell the smoke on John’s breath. Louis felt dizzy from having someone as intense as John standing so close to him. John’s smell and heat was rolling off of the boy in waves, crashing against Louis’ senses and leaving his brain a little frazzled and dazed.

“Would you let me fuck you?” Louis’ voice faltered slightly on the ‘fuck’ like they were school children worried about adults listening in.

John was breathless now, head ducking slightly with embarrassment but his eyes were determined and purposeful, “Yes.”  And fucking hell Louis damn near kissed the boy right then and there.

Louis grabbed John’s wrist and the pair practically ran to John’s hotel room. When they got there it was empty, just two small beds and a floor covered in junk. Louis shoved John inside and turned to lock the door. Spinning back around, Louis saw that John was standing in the middle of the room, looking at the ground and scratching his arm distractedly. He looked lost and completely out of his element, but Louis could feel a buzzing sense of nervous excitement emitting from the boy.

Louis slowly walked up to John and took his face carefully in his hands and kissed the boy. It was soft and gentle, not like their previous kisses, Louis let his mouth linger before nipping tenderly at John’s bottom lip. Louis couldn’t believe the way John just let himself be kissed, making only small satisfied sounds.

John broke the kiss first and looked at Louis through glazed eyes, “I haven’t –” he said nervously, biting his lower lip and fretfully wringing his hands together, “done this before,”

“I’ve not done it this way much,” Louis confessed, kindly rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back. To be honest, Louis wasn’t completely sure he had it in him to make John lose control the way the boy craved.

John didn’t look at all shocked by Louis’ admission and it should have offended Louis but it made his heart race to know that John wanted him even though he did lack considerable experience.

Louis kissed John again and they carefully peeled off each other’s clothes. Completely naked, they remained in the middle of the room, clinging to each other and lightly brushing their lips together. Louis enjoyed the slow build of his arousal. The other times he was intimate with John it was almost like his thirst for the boy had snuck up on him and punched him the face. Now it was pleasantly slow, making him feel comfortably warm all over.

Slowly and carefully, they blindly manoeuvred themselves towards one of the beds. The force of John falling backwards onto the mattress meant Louis toppled on top of the other boy and their naked pricks nudged together for the first time. Both of them groaned aloud at the new sensation, their naked cocks sliding against each other.

Louis rocked a little harder against John, running the palms of his hands up and down the boy’s sides, loving the feel of John’s muscles tensing and relaxing. They took their time, leisurely rubbing against each other, until Louis’ cock accidently slipped down and nudged up against the boy’s arse. John threw his head back and groaned. The sight of it was so bloody hot that Louis felt his cock twitch and arousal started to cloud his rational mind. Louis knew what he wanted. He wanted to take John apart, bit by bit, until the boy couldn’t say any other word but Louis’ name.

Louis thought he would start with something he was good at – sucking cock. Slowly, Louis mouthed along John’s collar bones, switching between each one, wanting to brush his lips along every part of John, wanting to see if the boy tasted differently on the inside of his elbow, the back of his knees, along his hip bones, or if he tasted the same everywhere.

Louis mouthed along John’s chest and down to his lower stomach, feeling the way they rose and fell, memorising the spasm of his muscles and the quiver of his belly. Louis licked around John’s belly button and dragged his nose through John’s snail trail. Louis thought that John smelt like leather, stale smoke and old guitars, he smelt like sweat and dusty stages, like every rock song Louis’ had ever heard.

Louis gently pushed John’s thighs apart, enough so that he could kneel between them. He looked down along John’s body and was momentarily stunned into stoic silence. Witnessing John sprawled out on his back, legs uselessly splayed apart, cock twitching, and waiting so patiently and being so submissive, was the sexiest fucking thing that Louis had ever seen.

John was looking up at him with worried but eager eyes, he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth and fuck did Louis find John’s shy vulnerability a turn on. Louis bent his head down and swallowed John’s cock right down to the base – Louis didn’t like being teased and he was too impatient to tease others, “Jesus Christ!” John cried, and Louis felt the strands of his hair being grasped. John was holding him down, not letting him move. Louis didn’t usually like it this way, it made him scared that his throat would get fucked painfully raw, but he trusted John so he relaxed his jaw and throat and waited for John to relent. The boy did eventually, “Sorry, sorry – fuck – just, didn’t expect that,” the boy panted, smoothing Louis’ hair down with a breathless chuckle.

Louis hummed around John’s cock before sucking slow and hard, taking the full length of John in his mouth and feeling his nose lightly bump against John’s lower stomach. John felt heavy on Louis’ tongue and he could feel the head of John’s prick nudging against the back of his throat. John was twisting above him and Louis looked up to see John reaching into his side table draw. The boy pulled out a tube of lube and a condom, basically throwing them both at Louis’ head.

Louis pulled his mouth off and continued stroking John’s spit-slick cock. He flicked open the tube with one hand and messily dribbled it straight between John’s arse cheeks. John was hardly making any noise, his breathing was a little heavy but Louis wasn’t sure whether that was more out of arousal or nerves.

Louis spent ages with his fingers inside John, it took a while for Louis to find the boys prostate but when he did John’s entire body convulsed, “Jesus fuck!” the boy cried, straining his neck to look down at Louis, “so THAT’S what all the fuss is about?” he breathed, chucking as he relaxed back down, “I could never find the bloody spot myself,” he said and Louis shivered, suddenly getting an image of John squatting over his bed, three fingers deep up his own arse with a frustrated scowl as he poked around for his prostate.

It was fascinating looking down and watching John’s face contort while Louis twisted his fingers to stretch the boy out. Louis could do this all night, finger fuck John to a slow orgasm, “If you keep doing that I’ll come and we’ll have to start this whole thing again,” John said, voice shaking, and Louis thought that that actually didn’t sound like such a bad idea. However, Louis’ cock didn’t agree, it throbbed painfully at the thought of spending any more time outside of John’s body.

Withdrawing his fingers, Louis heard John sigh and not in a pleasant way, it was a desperate and miserable sort of sound. Louis quickly ripped open the condom packet with his teeth and slid the rubber on. Keeping one hand flat on John’s stomach and the other on his prick, Louis nudged himself against John’s entrance. Watching John’s face carefully, Louis started to push in slowly. Too slowly for John apparently because Louis was not even halfway inside when John practically shouted, “fucking hell, like a band aid, just shove it all in at once,” and Louis did. And John made the sexiest noise Louis had ever heard; it was a mix between a scream and a moan. And Louis would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of his mouth if he were in the right frame of mind to be self-conscious.

Louis rested his hands on John’s chest and started thrusting shallowly, searching for that place that would make John lose control of his vocal cords. Once Louis found the spot, John really started to fall apart; he was making so many pretty noises and little grunts of encouragement. Louis loved how compliant John was under his touch, how responsive. Louis couldn’t quite believe how loud John could be. Louis realised that from now on every time John screamed during a song he would get a flashback to this moment.

Before long, John was pushing and gyrating his hips back against Louis’ thrusts, “Yesss,” Louis said, throwing his head back and slowing his own thrusts to equal John’s, “fuck yourself back against me,” he said and John did just that, moving his hands up so they were flat against the headboard behind him, John pushed himself back onto Louis’ cock. Louis groaned as the heat and tightness of John moved up and down his throbbing prick.

In that moment, they were equals. Louis thought that maybe this is what John craved, it wasn’t that he wanted someone to dominate him; he wanted someone to meet him halfway. Together they chased after their release and they came together at almost the same time.

Louis pulled out soon after and tied off the condom, slyly dropping it on the floor. John could deal with it later.

 

A little while later, Louis was listening to John play guitar. Louis was lying on his stomach, chin rested on his knuckles and a blanket wrapped around his naked waist. John was wearing only briefs. “Would you write me a song?” John asked out of nowhere, strumming away. Louis liked to write songs, but he felt out of his depth watching the sunlight move the shadows across the features of John’s face. Louis wouldn’t know how to put John into words, not fully anyway.

“Not sure a queer love song would sell, mate,” Louis said, chuckling lightly.

“Suppose your right,” John said gruffly before looking out the hotel window, “probably best you fuck off before Paul gets back,” Louis felt a little awkward and embarrassed, wondering how long John had been wanting to get rid of him.

“Yeah, I better get back to Harry,” Louis said without thinking, and he regretted it almost immediately.

John was staring down at him, expression unreadable, “Aye, maybe he’d be up for a go,” the boy said, a cold darkness creeping into his eyes, “you’re a young lad, you could probably go for round three,” his voice was suspiciously calm, only slightly mocking. However, John’s strumming got a little louder as the boy hit the strings harder. Louis thought he better leave as soon as he could.

When Louis was fully dressed, he hesitated at the door and turned back to John. The boy had his head down and was still fiddling with his guitar. Louis had an inexplicable urge to say something to John, anything so that they didn’t leave things on a negative note, “Today was good for me,” he said slowly, “I just wanted you to know,”

John didn’t respond, just kept playing with his guitar. Eventually John looked up, he looked irritated, and glared at Louis, “Quit loitering, will ya?” he said harshly, seeming to purposefully ignore Louis’ previous comment, “what do you want a tip or something?” And ouch, John’s nasty remark hurt. The bastard had meant it to hurt. He was comparing Louis to some cheap hooker, devaluing and undermining the moment they shared. Louis’ insecurities made him consider that maybe this was just another shag for John, or worst, Louis even considered that maybe this whole thing was some sick way for John to get back at Paul. The pair seemed as close as Harry and him; maybe they were fucking as well.

“If you’re tip is don’t sleep with an arsehole, then I’m afraid your advice is a little late,” and with that Louis yanked open the door and let it slam shut behind him. John’s unpredictable mood swings were well and truly pissing Louis off. _Fuck weather detectors_ , Louis thought, _someone better get working on mood detectors_.

Louis looked up to see Paul walking towards him, heading to his hotel room. Louis must have been wearing his emotions all over his face because as soon as Paul got close enough he was sneering down at Louis, “Found out you were just another slut to John?”

Louis knew that it was just a guess, Paul couldn’t possibly know what had just happened in that hotel room but Louis was angry, “Fuck off,” he said, nudging roughly against Paul’s shoulder as he walked passed, “you two cruel cunts deserve each other,” he shouted over his shoulder. Paul was shouting stuff back but Louis wasn’t interested enough to pay attention, the prick could yell until his face turned blue Louis did not give a shit.


	15. Chapter 15

Paul had gotten back to their hotel room just after Louis left and told John to get ready for their gig that night. While John was combing his hair, Paul was rambling about some bird he fucked that day when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, “That yours?” he asked, pointing at something on the ground. When John leaned over to see what Paul was looking at is body froze and his heart slammed against his chest. It was a condom, tied off and full of spunk. Fucking Louis, the careless git.

“Uhm, yeah – I kinda got lucky too?” John ignored the fact he ended that sentence like it was a question, because did he get lucky? Paul was uncharacteristically quiet. John was about to shout at the boy to start speaking again when he was suddenly struck by fear, making him stop brushing his hair mid-stroke.

Paul had got here just after Louis. Louis had left just before Paul got here.

A chorus of ‘fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” circled around John’s head as he realised that the two pricks must have walked past each other. That meant Paul knew that Louis was here and he probably figured out that the full condom was somehow involved in their meeting.

After a long silence, Paul picked up his chatter as if he never stopped, as if he never asked John about the condom, as if he hadn’t figured out that something extremely illegal had taken place in the same room he was standing in. John let the conversation get dropped, he knew it wasn’t forgotten, but he also knows that the two of them would pretend like it was forgotten.

They did their gig, John didn’t stay behind to watch One Direction perform and left alone, going back to his hotel room to do something he hadn’t done in a while, sleep during the night time.

 

The next morning, John was woken up by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Blearily, he looked around the room and saw that Paul was gone. The prick had probably gone and got himself locked out.

John opened the door and heard a shrill, “Darling!” before something small and blonde was clinging to him around the waist and kissing him on the lips. Fucking hell, Cyn was here, just what John needed. He hugged her back though, because she was familiar and maybe he needed some familiarity right about now.

“Come in, come in,” he was saying, waving the woman in.

Cyn came inside, struggling to carry her bags through the door. John would have helped her, but he had just sat down at the table. “Dot’s here too,” she said, “Where’s Paul?”

John looked up quickly, “Dot’s here?” he looked a little behind Cyn and sure enough there was the smiling face of Paul’s girlfriend. “Paul’s not here,” John said gruffly, doing his best to hold back from saying something about how the boy was probably tongue deep in some other girl’s cunt. Cyn dropped her things by John’s bed and went to sit by him, “Make us a cuppa will you dear?” he asked politely, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Dot was awkwardly hovering near the door, “come in then,” he practically shouted at her and she came in, scampering off into the kitchen to Cyn.

“Thought we’d come and surprise you boys,” Cyn was calling cheerfully from the kitchen. John was only half listening because he was also half thinking up creative ways to kill Paul for not being here.

“That’s nice, love you sweetheart,” John said, practicing phrases he will no doubt be saying to death over the next few years of their marriage, “missed you,” he added distractively. John just had to save up a few lines that sounded affectionate and sweet, and he could pull off this husband routine.

Cyn brought him tea and was about to sit down again when John asked, “also, I’m a bit hungry luv, you reckon you could cook up a homemade breakfast?” he gave her the eyes that she could never say no too, the please-please-me eyes that always seemed to work, and not just with Cyn. The girl nodded and a few minutes later John could smell sizzling bacon and fried eggs and could hear the girls chatting happily to each other in the kitchen. John thought that perhaps marriage wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

Paul returned to the hotel just after noon, he looked immaculate, the bastard. He was wearing clean dark blue jeans, a white button up shirt and his leather jacket with the collar flipped up. John always thought that Paul looked a little bit ridiculous wearing leather; his cherub face and soft features made him look like a little boy dressed in his big brothers clothes.

“Dot?” Paul said with an excited smile, as soon as he saw the brunette girl sitting on his bed. He went over and hugged her before snogging her full on the mouth. The kiss got pretty heated and John was forced to look away. “Johnny?” Paul questioned, “Reckon you can fuck off for a couple of hours?”

John opened his mouth to object but Cyn got a word in first, “I’d love to see more of Hamburg,” she said to John with an encouraging smile. John looked back up at Paul and saw that he was wearing a smug look. John hated the way their dynamics changed in the presence of their girlfriends. It was like they were school boys again, trying to one up each other with birds, trying to make the other jealous. As far as John was concerned Paul had already won, he wasn’t going to be a father in less than six months.

“Sure luv, let’s go exploring,” John said to Cyn, taking her arm possessively and guiding her out of the room. “Use protection!” John wanted to shout over his shoulder, but he knew _that_ wouldn’t go down well.

 

A few hours later, The Beatles and One Direction were back stage and Paul had just announced Cynthia’s visit to the group. John could tell the fucker enjoyed it, going by his self-satisfied expression. John spared a look for Louis, the first time he had looked at the boy all night.

Louis looked completely crestfallen and John couldn’t work out who he was madder at: Cynthia for showing up without warning, Paul for being a prick, or Louis for reacting as if John had hurt him personally. It wasn’t like the two of them were linked in any permanent way; Louis wasn’t the one pregnant with John’s unborn child.

Maybe John was a little cruel that night. Maybe John enjoyed engaging Cyn in a loud conversation about wedding plans and talks of parenthood. Maybe John enjoyed pushing Louis further away, making the boy hate him. It was better that Louis hated him now on John’s terms then later when John was a little more attached to the boy. Cynthia’s arrival was the reality check John needed.

Louis stood up and made his way towards the toilets, John saw his opportunity and made a beeline from the bar directly into Louis’ path. John knew that he shouldn’t have, he knew that he could never really control his actions around Louis. That fact excited him just as much as it scared him.

“For fucks sake,” Louis sighed agitatedly when he saw John, “get the fuck out of my way Lennon,” he warned, stepping to the side. John followed his movement. Louis stepped to the other side, John followed. “You know what I think –” and John never found out what Louis was thinking because John was kissing him. The kiss was quick, Louis was pushing John away and shoving him up against the opposite wall, “You prick,” Louis was saying, standing close enough that John could feel the puff of the boy’s breath hit his face. John felt disgusted at the stir his cock gave.

John tried reaching for the boy’s hips but Louis kept twisting away and John let out a frustrated sigh, “Will you just –” he started to say before he felt Louis take both of his wrists and pin them above his head, shoving a thigh between John’s legs. John was made aware of how hard he was.

“Just what?” Louis asked lips close to John’s ear and _fuck_ he felt the boy’s warm tongue dart out and brush against the shell of his ear, “Just touch you, kiss you, suck you, fuck you, what?” Louis was moving his thigh between John’s legs and John was shamelessly rubbing his crotch against it. The fact they were in a public bar, albeit a little out of the way from the main area, was far from John’s mind, he just hoped the people were too drunk to notice them.

“A-All,” John stuttered, desperately trying to get his hands free, trying to reach Louis’ lips with his, trying to get more than a fucking knee in his crotch. And then even the knee was gone and John’s hands were released and he wordlessly watched Louis slip into the men’s room. John was left painfully hard just moments before his first gig of the night, and his leather trousers did little to hide that fact.

John did the entire show with what felt like a wrought iron bar in his briefs. This only made the girls scream louder and John wished he had his glasses on so that he could try and find Louis in the packed audience.

Backstage, John got snarly with Paul about Cynthia’s visit and got absolutely no sympathy in return. “I’m not exactly happy about this either,” Paul said, combing his hair in some shitty stage mirror, “I had two German birds lined up for tonight, fit as fuck they were,”

George piped in, “Sisters or friends?”

“Neither,” Paul confirmed, smirking.

“Double book yourself did ya?” Ringo asked, tapping his drum sticks against an empty upside down crate. John couldn’t listen to anymore so he slung his guitar across his back and took off into the night.

Sitting on the curb outside an empty block of land, John wrote a song and he played the guitar until his fingers cracked and bled, blood dripping off his finger tips and staining the pavement in front of him. Louis, Louis, Louis was all John could think about; he was a man obsessed, going practically insane (or more insane, some would probably argue).

Going back to his hotel real early in the morning, he calmed himself down by fucking Cyn, probably being a little too rough, briefly wondering how rough he had to be to kill the foetus growing inside of her. John came while biting the pillow to stop himself from calling out a name that wasn’t Cynthia’s. He rolled over onto his side away from the girl and felt like a complete fucking arsehole. Nothing new there though.


	16. Chapter 16

Louis was angry. He was upset, hurt and a range of other things but he was mostly fucking angry. He was angry at himself for thinking that this thing with John could possibly end any other way. John was practically married with a kid, Louis never stood a chance.

Cynthia was by John’s side for most of her first night here. During that night John was smirking and staring at Louis with a wicked hint of amusement in his eyes. Louis felt uncomfortable and small, like he was the punch line of some joke, like he was reduced to nothing but a body that he didn’t feel like he belonged to anymore.

Louis felt used. He considered that maybe John wasn’t gay. Maybe he was just cruel, toying with Louis’ thoughts and emotions and then ripping them all away and shitting on his face. Louis knew in his heart that he was wrong though. If he let himself be honest, he knew that John was like him. Louis knew that John liked this as much as he did. Because even though John had his beautiful soon-to-be wife by his side, the boy still sought Louis out and got him alone. Trust John to have his cake and want to eat it too.

In that moment, Louis was proud of himself for not giving in to John’s wishes. Louis liked teasing the boy, he liked feeling John’s hardness, the proof that John was just as affected by their interactions as he was. Louis liked having John breathless and begging, admitting that he wanted the same as Louis. But Louis also reserved a special kind of hatred for the boy, a hatred that made him want to hurt John as much as John was hurting him. So Louis left him, because John needed to learn what it was like to be queer in these times. John needed to learn that it meant not getting what you wanted all of the time. It meant isolation and loneliness. It meant disappointment and abandonment. John had to learn what Louis had already learned the hard way, many _many_ times before.

When Louis came back out of the bathroom he saw John and Cynthia necking on the dance floor and decided that he’d had enough. He left the club to seek out that small room full of people like him, people who would understand.

The bar had more people in it than the first time Louis was there. The dance floor was packed and Louis smiled as he let himself get pulled into the mass of vibrating sweaty bodies. There were hands all over Louis almost immediately, two men had him pressed between them, and Louis let his head fall back onto the shoulder of the bloke behind him. This was Louis’ domain.

Louis ended up in the corner with four other men, a spliff was being passed between them and Louis was swallowing tablets and snorting powder and people were buying him drinks all night. Louis wanted to drink until the world began to tilt and blur the sights around him together. He wanted to drink until the noise around him sounded like they were far away. He wanted to drink until he killed enough brain cells that his memory suffered, so that he could no longer remember John’s touch and smell.

Louis left the bar with the four men, they spoke very little English but it didn’t matter because at that point Louis was struggling to put together sentences himself. He was led into a house, they were all laughing and leaning on each other, touching and mouthing against each other’s skin. Once inside, they didn’t even make it to the beds. Louis would almost certainly wake up with awful rug burn on his knees and stiff wrists but he didn’t care. Louis didn’t want to remember much of this night he just wanted to know that John wasn’t the last man that he slept with, Louis couldn’t put up with that fact while John was probably fucking Cynthia right now.

Later the next morning, when Louis was stumbling back to his hotel, he chanced a look down an alleyway, the same one that John and he were nearly killed in. There were two men clinging tightly to each other, pressed against the wall and mostly obscured by the shadows. Louis almost yelled out “get a fucking room,” until the pair moved slightly, changing their angle and letting Louis see who one of the men where. _Well, fuck me_ , Louis thought, _isn’t that interesting_.

Getting back to his hotel room, Louis saw two of his band mates passed out on his bed. One of them had their hand inside the others shirt and their legs were tangled together. It seemed that Hamburg was turning everyone gay.

Louis’ drug-induced mind decided that the bath was his best option for rest, so he slipped in and settled into an uncomfortable night’s sleep.

 

Louis woke up confused about where he was. His neck was stiff and he had the biggest fucking headache. He tried to move around and found that he was sort of slipping around some smooth surface. Louis stopped moving and closed his eyes again, trying to reorient himself.

When Louis opened his eyes once more, he saw a quick hand reach over him and turn on a tap. Suddenly there was freezing water gushing over his shoulder, “oh fuck!” he shouted, blearily struggling to get out of the tub. In his haste he stumbled out of the bath and hit his face on the tiled floor. There was laughter above Louis as he turned onto his back with a groan.

“What were you doin’ in the tub?” a voice asked. When Louis opened his eyes, he saw that it was Zayn. The boy was standing over him shirtless with dishevelled hair, his quiff had dropped and strands were falling into his eyes, Louis thought that he still looked a little bit too beautiful for words.

“There were two giant lumps in my fucking bed,” Louis said back, staring at Zayn accusingly.

Zayn looked away quickly and sort of blushed. Louis scrabbled to his feet and took off his soaked jacket and let it drop to the floor with a wet slopping sound. Louis looked back up at Zayn but the boy wasn’t looking at him, he was looking back out through the bathroom door. “I think I kissed Niall last night,” the boy said and Louis stared at the boy in shock. And then he burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny man,” Zayn said, glaring at Louis with irritation before he looked away smiling a little, “okay, so it’s kind of funny,” Zayn admitted, still looking a little worried, like he had fucked up an entire friendship with one kiss. Louis wondered how the boys would react if they ever found out that Louis’ had his cock up Harry’s arse countless times.

Louis was about to say something to comfort Zayn when Niall waltzed in, also shirtless, and started pissing while they were all still in the room. Niall turned to face the boys with a wide grin and made a joke about what a crap kisser Zayn was. The trio all started laughing and everything was back to normal. In the moment, Louis had the inexplicable urge to admit his sexuality, but bit his tongue because while the two seemed okay with kissing blokes, they might not be as understanding about actually liking it.

After kicking the two boys out and showering, Louis walked back into the bedroom area, straight past Harry who was still asleep in his bed and looked out their window. Sure enough, he saw John sitting on the park bench looking directly up at his window. Louis knew that the blind bastard couldn’t actually see him, but Louis still sort of ducked out of the way.

John was waiting for him, the arrogant prick; he was waiting for Louis to show up. Louis didn’t want to go, he really didn’t, but it was just that he actually kind of did. Looking back around to check on Harry, he silently slipped out the door and trudged over to where John was sitting. Louis had no idea what time it was, but the sun was starting its descent and it was starting the get dark and cold. Louis tucked his hands into his pockets.

John was watching Louis the whole time as he made his way over. Louis thought that John looked sort of miserable but Louis was cautious, John was pretty quick to change his temper. He might look a little sorry for himself now, but he could just as quickly look angry and imposing.

“Saw you sneak out the club last night,” John said casually before looking up at him with a glare, “did you go out to the bar, let yourself get taken away and fucked?” and sure enough, John’s mood changed to one of mocking and cruel.

Louis clenched his hands into fists but decided not to respond to John’s comment, instead he nonchalantly said, “How’s that lie you’re currently living in?”

“Fine thank you,” John said with a false cheery voice and a smile, “how’s your lie?” he asked with mock-politeness, like he was asking Louis how his day was.

Louis looked away, inadvertently gazing over to the hotel building his band mates were staying at, “I’m going to tell them soon,” he said. Louis was surprised at how much he meant it, how much he really wanted to be honest with his band mates.

“What?” John said, his face scrunched up with disbelief.

“I’m going to tell my band mates,” Louis repeated, more confidently this time, like he was trying to prove a point, “they’ll know soon,”

“Fuck off,” John spat, “you really think they’ll just accept you like that,” he leapt up from the bench and stood right in front of Louis, squinting his eyes.

“They will,” Louis said firmly, “you don’t know them,”

“They probably already know about your fag life,” John snarled, “They’re probably already thinking up ways to get rid of you,”

“No they aren’t,” Louis said, but self-doubt was leaking into his voice, John was throwing every insecurity Louis had into his face.

“A band can’t have a gay member,” John said, “it’s not right, it’s fucking disgusting,”

“Your band has a gay,” Louis observed, and he didn’t expect John to reach out and grab him around the neck, but he probably should have.

“I’ve told you before, I ain’t –” he started to say, voice filled with enough rage to make Louis’ hands tremble a little.

“It’s not you that I’m talking about,” Louis choked out and John loosened his grip.

“What are you saying?” he said, voice dangerously low.

“Paul,” Louis croaked before trying to clear his throat, “I saw Paul with a man last night,”

“Like fuck you did,” John said, shoving Louis back by his neck. Once John let go, Louis reflexively brought his hand up to his throat and massaged it lightly, “the kid loves cunt more than anyone I know,” John was saying, “if he were a fucking poofter, I’d fucking know.”

Louis stared at him, “How would you know?” he asked challengingly.

“I just would,” John said stubbornly, scratching the hair at the back of his neck, “he’d tell me or something,”

“Or something,” Louis said slowly, stepping carefully back to John, like the boy were a lion or tiger or something that equally couldn’t be tamed, “something like _show_ you? Right?” Louis ridiculed, “If he were gay he would definitely try it on you, that what you think?”

“No,” John said, but he looked away, blush colouring his cheeks before he met Louis’ eyes again, “Well – _okay_ – who else would he go to for that?” he reasoned.

“Someone who wasn’t especially cruel towards queers,” Louis pointed out.

“He’d fucking come to me, okay?” John shouted, prodding Louis’ chest with his index finger, “If he wanted that he would have come to me.”

“He didn’t though John,” Louis said softly, with a cruel edge to it. He realised again how much he wanted to hurt John, “he went to someone else,”

“Fuck you, he’s not a batty boy,” John looked close to tears now, his eyes flicking from side to side like his mind was reeling too fast for him to concentrate on individual thoughts, “he can’t be, it’s not possible,” John said softer, like he was trying to convince himself, like he couldn’t quite believe that his best mate could have been gay the whole time and he not know it.

John sat back down on the bench, head in his hands, fingers pulling roughly at the strands of his hair. Louis let him be, he backed away in shock. Louis never entertained the thought that John and Paul weren’t screwing around. He had always expected them to be like Harry and him. Louis realised that he had the duo all wrong and maybe he had hurt John more than he wanted to.


	17. Chapter 17

Paul remembered the day that he first met John. John was so much older and cooler than he was, and he couldn’t get over being in the same vicinity as the boy. Paul had heard other people say that they were afraid of John and he had heard incredible stories about his infamous temper. However, that was all hard to believe when John was leaning against him and laughing into his neck, breath stinking of smoke and booze. John appeared more childlike than tough guy.

Of course, over the years of knowing John, Paul did get to see therapy boy’s uncontrollable fits of rage. Paul got to see John viciously hit the people who put down his mates, he got to see John lash out against strangers for no particular reason. Paul knew that John could be incredibly violent but he knew that the boy would never hit him.

John had a lot of negative traits. He had unbelievable bursts of egomania, compulsively lying to make himself appear better than he actually was. John was self-destructive, he set himself up to be destroyed and he liked taking apart the things that he had built himself.

It took Paul a while to figure out that his egomania was based on the assumption that he thought he was less than everyone else. John was actually really sensitive and insecure and he desperately wanted to fit in. He was sensitive and he wanted acceptance, he always needed someone to depend on.

John was a lot like a child. He needed lots of love, and Paul thought that it was probably because he didn’t get enough when he was younger, abandoned by parents and living with his strict aunt. He had childish behaviours and grown up thoughts and language. When John was happy he was affectionate, when he was unhappy he was aggressive.

Paul never had friends like John before. His friendship with George was like any other schoolboy friendship, though Paul was bit older than George so he enjoyed pushing the younger kid around a bit. Paul thought about how he neglected George for a period while he ran off with John, the one with the hard heart and the sharp tongue. Paul wasn’t usually one to be easily led but John was one that he would gladly follow.

Paul also knew that John had some major issues with women. He tended to objectify them, treat them as body parts, as sexual things for his gratification, maybe it was attributed to his sexuality. Something that Paul had never been sure about. There had been whispers about John; whispers Paul thought were cruel idle gossip, whispers that Paul didn’t really pay attention to or properly acknowledge. That was, until Paul met Louis Tomlinson.

Louis was so clearly gay that Paul wondered how anyone thought him to be straight. It wasn’t just his mannerisms, though Louis could be extremely feminine, it was the way he acted around men. It was the way Louis looked like he was trying to play a part, trying to work out what he was supposed to be doing with his eyes and hands. Paul spotted it from a mile away, and he watched as John drifted closer and closer. John must have picked it from the start too.

Paul was standing backstage with George and John, Ringo was at the bar having another couple of pints and a bit of a dance before their gig. One Direction’s team came strolling though, a woman with a small child stopped to talk with someone and Paul watched as the little girl cried, “John!” and ran over to his band mate, arms encircling John’s legs.

“Hello little one,” John was saying, voice soft and genuine, his eyes were crinkling as he smiled down at the girl. John crouched down and started a little conversation with the child, who mostly repeated back words that John was saying but he looked like it was the most interesting and exciting conversation he had ever had.

Eventually the woman who Paul assumed was the child’s mother walked up to the pair. John and she exchanged a few friendly words and Paul was sure that he had heard Louis’ name get mentioned.

When the woman and the girl walked away, Paul cornered John, “Chatting up single mum’s now, aye?” he joked.

“Fuck off,” John laughed, picking up his guitar and taking a seat, “Louis said I should get more practice with kids, you know –” and then John cut himself off and looked up at Paul with an ‘oh shit’ expression.

“You told that prick about your baby?” Paul whispered in disbelief, not wanting anyone who was lurking around to overhear this conversation, “You fucking arsehole, do you want this band to be ruined?”

John glared up at him, “It’s my fuckin’ band McCartney, my band,” he said in a low voice, trying to get Paul to back off. Paul didn’t budge.

“You know this can’t get out, a married Beatle isn’t what the fans want to know,” _or a gay Beatle_ , Paul thought spitefully but decided to bite his tongue, that was a conversation to be had another time.

John rolled his eyes, “Is this really about Cyn and the baby?” he asked, getting out of his seat and standing in front of Paul.

“Of course it is,” Paul said, reeling backwards at John’s imposing presence, “what else would this be about?”

“Dunno, you tell me,” John said, meeting Paul’s gaze head on. Paul did his best not to flinch and look away.

This was Paul’s best opportunity, he realised that might not get another chance like this. In that moment he felt brave and stupid enough to finally breach the topic, “What’s going on between you and Louis?

John smiled, it was slow and catlike, “Jealous are you?” Paul hesitated and John caught him, closing in on the boy, “I sucked him off, then I fucked him, and then he sucked me off and fucked me,” he said it with malice, like he didn’t want Paul to take him seriously. Paul knew better.

Paul dropped his voice and he noticed that his hands were shaking, “Why not with me John? I thought you were straight, for fucks sake,” Paul threw a quick look over his shoulder and noticed that everyone else had cleared out. It was just him and John, the way that Paul liked it.

“I thought _you_ were straight,” John accused, “how could you lie to me?”

“Didn’t lie,” Paul corrected, “I never said that I only liked birds,”

“That’s all I saw you with, I thought –”

Paul sighed, “All I saw you with were birds. I thought the same about you,”

John looked away, keeping his eyes cast low, “I’m not a fairy,” he said in a small voice.

“Neither am I John,” Paul said, trying to comfort the boy.

“What are we then?” John asked, looking up at Paul like he held all the answers, like just because he was the first to breach this topic he knew exactly what to say. In reality, Paul was just as scared as John and seeing the look of terror on the boy’s face made Paul aware of just how serious this was. This thing that they were both admitting to wasn’t just dangerous, it was illegal.

“I don’t know what we are Johnny, does it even fucking matter?” Paul said with a sigh. He walked past John and leaned his back against the wall in the corner. He closed his eyes but he could hear John shuffle towards him.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” John was asking. It was easier not to look at John while having this conversation.

“After seeing you all those times giving hell to Brian,” Paul said earnestly, remembering all the cruel words they all had said to and about Brian, but John was always the worst, “you’re the last person I’d tell,”

“The last person?”

“John –” Paul said, opening his eyes as he sensed that John was getting agitated. He was right.

“The last person you’d tell,” John said, he was glaring at the wall right near Paul’s head, “Fuck you Macca! You were the first person I told about my mother’s death. You were the first person I told about Cynthia and the baby. You were the first person I wanted to write songs with. You have so many of my firsts and I seem to have all for your lasts,”

“John,” Paul said, “Johnny,” he repeated, trying to get the boy to look at him, “I didn’t mean it like that. I was scared okay, fucking terrified. How would I even tell you anyway, ‘Hey John, did I mention that I like sucking cock sometimes? What was that chord progression again?’ Fuck off,” Paul spat, he was angry now. Paul started to walk away but at the last minute he turned to face John again, it always was back to John, “You know what; I think you’re more upset about the fact that I haven’t sucked _your_ cock and less about the fact that I like to suck cock in the first place,” John raised his fist and Paul didn’t even flinch, “Do it John, fucking do it you coward!” John dropped his fist and next thing Paul knew, he was being pulled into a hug. John dropped his forehead to Paul’s shoulder. Paul put his arms around John and he felt the boy’s body tremor with sobs.

“I don’t want to be like this,” John was saying, his voice cracking and shaking as he tried to get control over himself again.

“I know,” Paul said, patting John on the back.

Paul loved John so much. Their history and friendship meant so much to Paul; he would spend all of his time with John if he had the choice. Paul always knew that it was more than friendship between them but he thought it was better that way, safer for the both of them. Paul had ignored the way his heart fluttered when John stared at him for longer than necessary, the way their mouths got so close when they sung into the same microphone, he ignored all of that.

While the pair where still embracing, George walked into the room with Niall in tow. The Irishman laughed, making the pair jump apart, Paul’s heart beating a mile a minute, “I thought we were the only band that had group crying sessions,” Niall said.

Paul looked sidelong at John and he was relieved to find that the boy was smiling. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe this would even be a good thing. Maybe.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry was cooking pancakes and bopping along to Elvis Presley’s new song on the radio. Louis was still asleep in the next room and Harry was going to surprise him with food. Louis seemed a little upset when he came back to the hotel yesterday so Harry was going to try and make him happy again. Harry knew that nothing made Louis smile more than a pancake breakfast.

Holding the frying pan, Harry flipped the pancakes without using any utensils. He smiled and cheered himself when he did the perfect flip. However, he stuffed up one of them near the end; it ended up landing folded in half. Frowning a little, Harry smoothed the pancake back down flat with his fingers. That one would be Harry’s; he wouldn’t dream of giving Louis any of the faulty ones. If anything Harry cooked was a little too burnt, or had too much salt, or anything like that, Harry always put those on his plate and gave Louis’ the perfect servings.

Harry poked his head out of the kitchen to check on Louis. The boy was flat on his back, arms and legs spread open, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Harry frowned when he looked a little closer. Louis appeared to be scowling in his sleep. Harry wondered what the boy was dreaming about. Harry even thought about waking him up so that he didn’t have to be upset anymore.

Returning to the kitchen, Harry wondered again about what had happened yesterday that upset Louis so much. Harry had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with John, but the thought made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Harry didn’t exactly know what was going on between Louis and John but he could certainly hazard a guess.

Harry had his chance with Louis, he knew that. He had lots of chances. The last time they were intimate, Harry had convinced himself that it was the last time. Sneaking around wasn’t good for him anymore. It used to be exciting and fun but now it was torturous. It was painful to see Louis get more and more paranoid, more and more wary of how they interacted. Louis wouldn’t touch Harry for weeks when they were in public and in the end Harry couldn’t take it, he couldn’t stand being Louis’ dirty little secret.

Okay, so maybe Harry was a little abrupt and cruel about its ending, but he expected Louis to object. He expected Louis to fight a little harder. When Harry said, “Let’s forget about all this, yeah?” and Louis nodded like it was the best idea in the world, Harry pretended that they were something that he could forget.

The next few days Louis was more relaxed and bubbly then he had been in months. Louis didn’t hesitate before touching Harry anymore, he hugged him and tickled him and smiled at him all the time.  It was strange how easily they fell back into being friends, Harry could almost let himself think that this was what he wanted. Except, of course, on those days when Louis would look at him a certain way or let his touch linger a little longer. Those were the days that Harry remembered just how stupidly in love he was. In the end, anything that Louis had to give, Harry would gladly take. Even if Harry wanted more, he would never ask for it.

“You look cute,” Louis said walking into the kitchen. He had one eye closed and was stretching his back with his arms in the air. Louis looked sleepy and soft, hair sticking up all over the place and a gentle smile on his face. Harry turned away from Louis, blushing as he played with the strings of his apron. Louis hugged Harry from behind and the curly-haired boy let himself believe for a moment that they were a couple, that they could have this forever, “Pancakes?” Louis practically squealed as he let go of Harry and sat up on the bench.

“Yep,” Harry said, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but you woke up too soon,” he was frowning now, very disappointed that Louis had woken up earlier than Harry wanted him too.

Louis poked Harry on the nose, “Sorry mate,” he said, moving his finger out of the way before Harry could bite it, “I can go back into bed and pretend to sleep?” he proposed.

Harry knew he was being serious, but didn’t want Louis to go out of his way, “don’t be silly, just sit at the table,” he said with a smile.

Louis hopped off the bench and stood next to Harry, “can I help?” he asked, reaching out to the ingredients by the stove.

Harry slapped his hand away, “Get out of this kitchen,” he demanded, though it lacked conviction, he didn’t want to force Louis to do anything, “you being anywhere near it will probably make it spontaneously combust,” he joked, sticking his tongue out at the boy.

“Hey,” Louis said as he slapped Harry’s shoulder, “I’m not that bad of a cook,” he said, moving behind Harry to stand on the curly-haired boy’s other side.

“You’d burn cereal,” Harry said, giving Louis a look.

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes, “You don’t even cook cereal,”

“Exactly,” Harry said, shooing him out, smiling as Louis went willingly. Harry liked it when Louis listened to him, Louis so rarely did what he was told, Harry liked that he was one of the few who could get through to Louis most of the time.

There was a loud knock at the door, Harry caught Louis getting up out of his seat, “sit, I’ll get it,” and he ran out of the kitchen, still wearing his apron. Harry opened the door to his three other band mates and four hungry looking Beatles. “Guests,” Harry cried over his shoulder to Louis, “come in, come in. I have foooood!” Harry said to the group, smiling as he waved the boys into the room. Harry was smiling; he knew that he looked kind of silly wearing an apron with his long uncut hair tied back, but he was happy, that’s all that mattered.

“Harry always makes too much food,” Louis said proudly and Harry ducked his head to hide his blush.

“Sounds like the perfect little housewife,” Harry heard John say, he wasn’t sure whether the Beatle was mocking him or being polite, “I’ll have to trade you in,” John added and Harry looked up to see the boy bumping his shoulder against Paul’s. Paul mumbled something under his breath and moved towards the other boys sitting and around the couch.

Harry and John stared at each other for a moment. John looked mean and haughty and Harry felt his dislike for the boy grow. Harry didn’t like the idea of this man touching Louis, he didn’t like the idea of John being anywhere near Louis. John nodded sharply at Harry before turning away from him.

“Well, the Mrs’ have left, haven’t they Paul?” John said. His fellow band mate let out an affirming huff, but the older Beatle didn’t really pay him any attention. John was walking towards the table that Louis was sitting at. Harry watched as Louis tensed but didn’t look like he intended to stand up and move away. Harry sighed and went back into the kitchen to prepare his pancakes. When Harry walked back out of the kitchen, plates cradled in his arms, John and Louis were still sitting next to each other at the table, whispering quietly.

Harry wished he had the courage to step in, stand between the pair with his arms held wide. Harry wanted to say to Louis: _don’t let him ruin you_ but he had a sick feeling that John already had. Louis looked so tired all of the time, his laughter was strained and his smile hardly carried the same effect. Harry was losing his Louis to a statue, a beautiful but cold and vacant duplicate of a person.

Louis and John were eyeing each other unpleasantly, as if they each saw something in each other that they didn’t like. Harry watched as the pair continued their conversation, watched as Louis’ eyes slowly softened and John’s mouth twist into something that resembled a smile. They kept leaning towards each other and then springing back like they were two positively-charged magnets, never quite able to meet in the middle.

Harry put down the plates of pancakes and everyone in the room jumped on them. In the end, Louis was left with the bad pancakes and Harry didn’t get any at all. Harry wondered if this was a metaphor of their life, but Harry didn’t really understand what a metaphor was.

Harry was washing dishes when John suggested going to a bar. Ringo came in and told Harry about the place, explained what it really was and Harry smiled excitedly. Ringo picked up a dish cloth and helped Harry by drying the dishes, the pair chatted animatedly in hushed giggly voices. Harry was splashing Ringo with soap suds and Ringo was running his wet fingers over Harry’s neck and making him squirm.

Niall came into the kitchen to tell the pair that the others were leaving and nearly slipped on the wet floor, “what the fuck happened in here?” he cried, clinging to the fridge and eyeing the soaked floor cautiously. The pair just laughed.

Harry wanted to make sure the floor was dry before they left, but didn’t get the chance. Harry was halfway through ranting about cleaning up their own mess when Niall picked him up from behind. Arms wrapped around the boy’s narrow waist, and carried him out of the room. Ringo was laughing but Harry caught him reaching for the dish towel and patting some of the floor with it. Harry really did like Ringo.

 

The club was called Roxy. Inside, the girls were really fit. They all wore tight dresses and a few of them had deepish sort of voices, like they smoked a few too many cigarettes.  The girls were saying things like “my little schnoodelpoodle” and a few of them took a particular liking to Niall, who got snatched away from the group pretty early.

Harry sat at the bar chatting up one of the girls, resting his hand on her thigh and whispering into her ear. He watched as Louis let himself be dragged onto the dance floor by two very strong and tall women. Louis loved the attention though, always did. Harry watched as he flirted with the women, making them laugh and smile. Anyone would think that Louis was the one that pulled the most women, Harry knew better. Louis was waving at Harry, trying to coax him onto the dance floor. After downing the rest of his drink, Harry pulled the girl he was chatting to with him.

From the dance floor, Harry could see the entire bar. He could see Zayn and Liam chatting to each other over a small table, he could see Ringo and George standing to the side laughing with one of the girls and he could see John and Paul sitting by the bar completely absorbed in their conversation.

Eventually the boys all found their way back to each other (minus Niall) and ended up in a corner sharing cigarettes and chatting. Halfway through Liam’s story about finding a fan girl in a bin, Niall came running up to them. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and his face was flushed. He stood next to Harry and took the cigarette right out of his mouth, “they’re all blokes,” he whispered to the group, nodding at the various girls chatting up men all around the room

“Pardon?” Harry asked. He was trying very hard to sound not at all amused.

“Those girls I went off with,” Niall said, louder so the rest of the group could hear, “I put me hand up one of their skirts and she had a fucking knob,” In the corner, the Beatles were all falling over themselves laughing, Ringo winked at Harry and cracked a smile. Ringo was right; it was one of _those_ bars.

“So what did you do?” George asked through his laughter.

Niall shrugged, “Well. I let her finish me off of course, I already paid her,”

“You’re a strong man Niall Horan,” George said, patting the boy on the back. Harry was sure that he hadn’t meant it as an insult, but it still sort of stung a bit. Like it took some sort of freak to let another man touch your cock. Harry looked at Louis cautiously, hoping that the boy didn’t pick up on the negative connotations. Louis wasn’t really paying attention; he was looking around the bar curiously with new eyes. John was whispering in his ear and Louis was blushing. Harry felt an uncomfortable flip in his stomach.

“It wasn’t so different,” Niall said with a careless shrug, “it was mostly a shock to find myself grabbing a cock that wasn’t my own,”

George stared at him, “Did you wank her off too?”

“Nah, that’s not my thing,” Niall said, shaking his head, “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it, just not what I’m interested in,” In that moment, Harry loved Niall so much more. Harry wished that he could tell the boy that right now. Harry loved him for being so kind and understanding, and open-minded about trying new things but considerate enough to not insult people who liked the things that he didn’t. Harry wished he could point this out to Louis, to show him that there are people who _get it_ , that he shouldn’t be afraid of _everyone_ , but Harry looked up to see Louis being walked out of the bar by John. Louis would have to discover this in his own time.


	19. Chapter 19

John was sitting with Louis in his hotel room. The other boys were on the couches or trying to steal Harry’s mostly uncooked pancakes from the kitchen. It felt nice just speaking to Louis. With Cynthia gone it was so much easier for John to pretend that she didn’t exist. He could pretend that he was single again and set loose on the world. It was so easy to think that he could have Louis, that he deserved him even.

John knew that Harry was watching them and he didn’t enjoy that idea as much as he thought he would. If John was honest with himself, he would admit that Harry was a sweet kid. John thought that Louis probably didn’t deserve Harry but Harry certainly deserved Louis. John wondered how they would survive together in the same band, wondered whether it would rip them apart in the end, sending all the other band members flying.

John briefly wondered about what would happen to his own band if Paul and he did something stupid. After his conversation with Paul, the two were a little cautious around each other, they tip-toed through their conversations in case they set off any more landmines that would lead to another argument. John wasn’t ready to discover how deep his feelings for Paul ran, he suspected that he would never be ready.

After the pancakes, John suggested going to a transvestite bar. He didn’t tell the boys of One Direction what it really was and he chuckled as Niall got taken away by a few of the girls. John watched Louis dance as he was flanked by the women; he really enjoyed watching Louis dance. John caught sight of Harry who was doing the same thing. John figured it wouldn’t be long until the two ended up smashing together again. But John was selfish, so when Niall came back to the group, John took Louis by the arm and led him out of the bar.

The two of them were mostly silent. It seemed like they had less and less to say to each other as the days went by. John couldn’t muster up the same dislike that he had for the boy all those weeks ago. Eventually, they walked past their old bar and the alley way that held the memories that John would recall with a shiver across the years.

“Remember that night?” Louis asked as he stopped in front of the lane way. The entry loomed in front of the boy like the opening of a mouth, one that had sharp teeth and might clamp down at any moment.

“How could I forget?” John sighed, brushing past Louis and running his fingers along the bricks. He walked right down the alleyway until he came to the door that they had both coward in, scared to fucking death. John was sure that he was going to die that night. He was sure that he was being punished for living such a sordid life.

Louis started talking. John let the boy’s words rush over him like a stream of cold water, making him more aware of his surroundings. Louis spoke about how he was unfortunately very used to this. He had become accustomed to men who repressed their homosexuality to the point where they got violent against queers. As Louis talked, John thought about how many people he knew who repressed their homosexuality and how they weren’t violent in the slightest. He knew men in hiding that where kind and gentle, sweet and delicate, they would never intentionally hurt anyone. John came to the decision that the arseholes that dragged Louis away that night would probably have been violent regardless of their repressed sexual orientation.

“What actually happened to me that night?” John heard Louis ask, he sounded nervous, like he really didn’t want to ask but his longing for the truth outweighed his fear, “I never asked,” Louis leaned his shoulder against the brick wall and the door where they shared their first kiss loomed between them, like a gulf of secrets and lies and hurt feelings.

“They didn’t touch you. I didn’t let them,” John said as he stepped past the door and cupped Louis’ cheek, shocking himself with the tenderness of his own touch. John softly pushed Louis’ shoulders until they boy’s back was flat against the brick wall. Louis was trembling against him and John had the strangest urge to make a good memory out of this place. He wanted it for Louis but also for himself. They both needed some closure from this place.

John softly kissed Louis on the side of his mouth, gently playing with the collar of the boy’s shirt. John didn’t know where he was going with this; he wasn’t sure where he wanted to take it. Louis let out a contented sigh and fluttered his eyes closed. John kissed the other side of Louis’ mouth and then each of Louis’ closed eye lids. John undid Louis’ top button and stroked his fingers along each of the boy’s collar bones before bending down to kiss the notch between each of the structures.

Louis leisurely ran his hands up John’s back and then combed his fingers through John’s hair. John was kissing Louis’ neck and gripping the boy’s shoulders tight enough to probably leave bruises. Louis was letting out soft little noises and the puffs of his breath were brushing past the side of John’s face. Suddenly, in the crisp late night air of Hamburg, John felt very hot. John was consumed by every move Louis made, every noise that fell from his quivering lips.

John felt Louis twisting away from him, turning until his back was pressed against John’s front. John was shocked, he stood still, arms braced on either side of the boy’s body, “You sure?” John asked, taking a deep steadying breath afterwards.

“Yesss,” Louis breathed, curving his spine so that his arse rubbed against John’s crotch. John was embarrassed by the noise that came out of his mouth.

“I don’t have anything,” John whispered, mouthing against the back of Louis’ neck and feeling hair tickle his nose. He gripped Louis’ hips and pulled the boy away from the wall so he could bring his hands to rest above Louis’ zipper.

“Make do,” Louis murmured, still grinding back against John.

John fumbled with Louis’ button and zipper, pulling his trousers down to expose the boy’s arse. Nuzzling his nose against the back of Louis’ neck, John took hold of Louis’ cock and just enjoyed the heavy heat of it in his hand. John’s mouth was watering as he pressed a kiss to the back of Louis’ neck.

Kneeling behind the boy, John pulled Louis’ trousers all the way down to his ankles. John sucked on his fingers, dribbling spit all over them before carefully pushing three fingers up the boys arse. Louis grunted and hissed. John was slow and careful, reading each of the boy’s movements and sounds, trying to figure out what felt good and what didn’t. The whole thing felt dirty and deliciously wrong, kneeling behind Louis who was naked from the waist down while John was fully clothed. Louis’ backside was completely exposed and on display for John.

John dipped down to lick the underside of Louis’ dangling balls, rolling them around in his mouth as he continued to finger fuck the boy. John spat on his hand and tried his hardest to slick his own cock up with a mixture of spit and pre-cum. Louis was getting desperate, he was pushing his arse back against John’s curled fingers and was muttering, “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” getting louder and louder the longer John kept only his fingers inside.

John pulled his fingers out of the boy and spread the boy’s arse cheeks open, Louis still looked tight but John didn’t think either of them could wait any longer. Pressing a quick kiss to one of Louis’ round cheeks, John stood up.

Keeping one hand on Louis’ hip and the other on his cock, John slowly pushed himself in, closing his eyes until he was fully sheathed inside the boy. Louis was breathing shallowly and tensing around him, “relax,” John whispered, pressing his lips back against Louis’ neck. John kept himself deep, resisting the urge to selfishly fuck the boy raw, until he felt Louis let go of his tension.

John starting moving then, digging his chin into Louis’ shoulder and hoping that the boy could hold the weight of them both with his hands against the wall. There was a mad sort of desperation about the moment, like the boys knew that this was their last time together. John’s thrusts got sporadic due to fatigue and he focused mainly on getting Louis off first. Eventually, after a particularly brutal thrust, Louis grunted and came all over the brink wall in front of him.

Shortly afterwards, John pulled out and Louis spun around and dropped to his knees, finishing John off with his hands. John emptied his balls and Louis caught it all in his mouth like a fucking champ. The boy remained crouched on the ground, breathing heavily. John saw that Louis probably wouldn’t have the energy to move for a little while so he dropped down to his knees in front of the boy.

They kissed. Well, it wasn’t really a kiss, it was more Louis falling against John and smashing their mouths together. But it was enough for John. It seemed enough for Louis who let out a pleased sigh. John caught sight of the white splash of Louis’ drying spunk and smiled a little sadly to himself. The other night, that could have been blood.

 

“You’re not the first married man I’ve been with,” Louis said as they walked sharing a cigarette. Louis was limping a little, making John smile a little possessively.

“Naughty,” John said, taking the cigarette from Louis. John didn’t think the boy had it in him to be the other woman, other man rather. John chuckled.

“I didn’t know,” Louis admitted, “I saw him with a kid one day and I knew,” Louis breathed out heavily, “I knew the kid was his,”

“Did you love him?” John asked awkwardly, not sure why the question was even relevant.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Louis spat. John thought that was a fair reply.

They walked in silence for a while, until John’s curiosity got the better of him, “What happened?”

“I made him choose and, yeah, I wasn’t picked,” Louis shrugged casually, but John could tell that the boy was hurt by the man’s decision, “And then I saw his picture in the paper a few weeks later, he’d killed himself,” Louis said, sending a shiver down John’s spine, “After that, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get married, I didn’t want to end up like him,”

“I’m not the same as him,” John said, wanting Louis to know that. John figured that Louis brought up the cautionary tale to warn him or something. It made John feel a little angry that Louis thought he would just go and off himself because of a marriage.

“Maybe not,” Louis shrugged, “But I know that you don’t even want to be a husband, or a father,”

John wanted to deny it but knew that they both knew better, and who was he even trying to convince anyway? Louis talked more about his history of hiding his sexuality. John listened with interest while Louis recounted having sex with girls and how it didn’t work because people still suspected that he was different, like they could smell it. Louis said that he remembered washing himself for hours trying to get rid of his ‘gay smell’ hoping to send it all down the drain so that no one would know. In the end, Louis became the class clown in order to be liked. He figured that people where going to look at him and talk about him anyway, so he may as well give them something, a façade that he could hide behind. And fuck, it all sounded so similar to John’s history that he felt a little queasy.

Louis talked a little more about Harry. John recognised that gentle voice and the small smile that Louis always wore when talking about the boy. A part of John wanted to tell Louis about Paul, wanted Louis to know that he would be okay, that Paul would help him. But John still didn’t want to think of Paul just yet. John wasn’t sure where they stood these days.

John stopped to kiss Louis again, just once more, before they had to be surrounded by other people and hide themselves away. John had so much to say. He thought himself a poet, but in that moment he had no words, he felt like a craftsman without his tools.

The pair went their separate ways, and when they each played their gig that night, they watched the other perform but didn’t have another chance to talk to each other that night. John felt like he wouldn’t know what to say anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

Louis drove the boys to a town just outside of Hamburg, a place called Stade. It was only an hour away but it took all morning to get there because the shitty van broke down about five times (which was totally _NOT_ Louis’ fault). No one thought to bring money to keep the tank full so they had to steal petrol from a few stations along the way. Liam frowned the whole time but stopped once Louis threatened to sell him in order to pay for their trip. Louis was joking but it was enough to keep Liam from complaining.

Harry was laughing, “Lighten up Liam,” he said, and Louis watched in the rear-view mirror as Harry threw his arm around the boy’s shoulders and shook him a bit. Liam mumbled something Louis didn’t catch, but Harry giggled and said something as equally as quiet. Louis was reminded of how much he loved how easily Harry could get everyone laughing and happy.

As soon as they arrived in Stade the boys jumped out of the van and ambled down to the river. Louis watched Niall and Zayn carefully, after their kiss they seemed to be a little closer than before or maybe Louis was just hyperaware of their interactions now. When Louis really paid attention he noticed that they were all pretty close, touching seemed to be second nature to them.

Harry was stopping occasionally to wack Liam in the crotch and Liam would retaliate by poking Harry in the face. Zayn was giving Niall a piggy back and Niall was reaching down to slap Zayn on the bum. Louis walked a little behind the boys, watching. He watched Harry and Niall link arms, he watched Zayn rub Liam’s nipples. There was a lot of crotch grabbing and arse slapping, a lot of hugging and cheek kissing and Louis thought maybe telling these boys he was gay wouldn’t go down as horribly as he thought.

The boy’s scrambled together some coins from their pockets and bought some fish and chips to eat by the river. The chips were awful so they fed most of them to the seagulls, at one point a bird flew straight passed Harry and snatched a piece of fish right out of his hand. Harry wore the cute frown on his face that Louis adored until it was poked away by Zayn’s prodding finger.

Louis turned his attention to Niall and Liam who were lying back on the grass. Niall was rubbing his belly with a satisfied smile and Liam looked like he was about to fall asleep. Louis smirked to himself as he slowly got up. Niall flicked his eyes up to him and Louis pressed his index finger to his pursed lips and motioned the boy to quietly get up. Louis turned to Zayn and Harry and got them to do the same. Silently, they all walked a little away from the half-asleep boy and hid behind a tree.

A few minutes later a boat came passed, sounding off a loud horn. Liam jumped up but couldn’t find his feet soon enough and ended up stumbling backwards and landing on his arse. Niall let out a barking laugh and Zayn slapped his hand over the boy’s mouth. Louis had to silence his own giggles by pressing his face into Harry’s neck.

They continued to watch as Liam stood up and scanned the area with a confused frown. Figuring out he was alone, Liam started pacing up and down part of the river, straining his neck to see over the surrounding people and bushes. When Liam turned his back on the boys, Louis grabbed Harry and Niall’s wrist and pulled them towards where they were seated before. The box half full of chips was still sitting on the ground.

Louis watched out of the corner of his eye as Liam turned back around and saw them. The boy slowly walked back over and sat down, taking a chip out of the box and nibbling on the end. Liam was carefully looking around the group with a suspicious look in his eyes. Niall was the one who gave them away of course; he couldn’t contain his laughter as he fell against Zayn’s shoulder.

“You bastards,” Liam was saying, smiling through his pretend frown. Louis ruffled the boy’s hair and pulled the boy in by his waist.

“We do it because we love you,” Louis said, pressing his smiling lips against Liam’s neck.

“And you’re an easy target,” Niall added, kicking his foot out to hit Liam’s thigh.

“I thought you’d all left me,” Liam said. Louis could tell he was trying to say it like a joke but there was uncertainty in his voice. Louis was reminded of the times when Liam opened up to them all about how he was bullied as a kid. Louis, Zayn, Niall and Harry all made a secret pact that they would never put Liam through any of that. Sure, Liam copped the brunt of their pranks but it was never out of spite or hatred, all the boys felt like they had to remind Liam of that.

Louis pulled a slightly pouting Liam into his arms and tackled him to the ground. All the other boys jumped on top of them, laughing and cheering. In that moment, Louis felt words build up in his throat. He hadn’t intended to say it; not really, he just wanted to know what the words sounded like being said aloud, “I’m gay,”

There was silence.

And then each of the boys got off of Louis and stood above him. Louis shut his eyes and prepared for the worst. But the worst didn’t come. Instead, he felt something poke his forehead and when he opened his eyes he saw Niall’s smiling face, “mate,” he was saying, “we didn’t mean to jump off you so quick, we were just surprised is all,” Niall put his hand on Louis’ cheek, “we don’t think – like, we don’t not want to touch you or anything, like –” Niall cut himself off as Zayn fell down on top of Louis again, hugging him tight around the waist.

Louis could see Liam over Zayn’s shoulder, “We love you no matter what, you know that right?” he said, walking over and crouching down by Louis’ side, gripping his forearm with a kind smile.

Harry was standing just behind Liam with a big smile, “You know I’ll love you no matter what,” he said and Louis felt warm all over, happiness was bubbling just under his skin, making him feel twitchy.

Louis gently shook Zayn off and, keeping his eyes on Harry, he addressed the rest of the group with a smirk, “I’m just going to take Harry for a romantic walk along the riverside,” the boys all laughed and wolf whistled and Louis wondered whether any of them already suspected anything prior to his coming out. He wondered if the boys knew how far Louis and Harry got with each other, how close they got, how close they still wanted to get, right up until the day it all fell apart.

The pair walked in silence for a bit, the back of their hands and their shoulders brushing together lightly, “I didn’t think you’d do it,” Harry said eventually, looking at Louis sidelong, “when we were together you were so afraid of people finding out,”

Louis remembered those days. Remembered the times that he didn’t want to touch Harry out of fear that his feelings would be written all over his face. He would avoid eye contact, he would veer conversations off in different directions, he would turn down opportunities to hang out with the boy and eventually they stopped being intimate.

“You ended it,” Louis said, remembering that Harry was the one that cut the strings and sent them twirling away from each other. Louis always felt bitter about that. Even though he was the one to push Harry away, he still felt like Harry was to blame for it being over.

“I did it for us,” Harry argued, eyes serious and unwavering, “you wouldn’t even look at me,” the boy sounded miserable, like all he ever wanted was for Louis to acknowledge him. Louis felt guilty then, guilty that he denied them both of what they wanted until Harry was driven to end it in order to get Louis to just look at him again.

“I know,” Louis said, taking the slouching boy into his arms and holding him tight, “I’m so sorry,” Louis whispered into the taller boy’s neck, wanting to kiss that spot, wanting to mark Harry as his again, even though he had lost the right to.

Harry lowered his eyes so they met Louis’ and dropped his voice to a low murmur, “I want to tell them about me too,”

Louis’ heart slammed against his chest at the thought of the boys knowing about both of them, maybe even eventually knowing about the both of them together. Maybe afterwards they could be together again? Louis would like that, being with Harry without the pressure of keeping it a secret from the band.

Louis wondered about how long it would take before he and Harry fell back into bed again, tangled in sheets that would no longer feel like ropes, sheets that would start to feel like clouds, floating without the weight of their worries and anxieties.

Harry was looking at Louis expectantly and Louis thought that if Harry were a girl he would have been kissing him ages ago. But Harry’s a boy and he’s a boy and it would be a long time before they could kiss in public, or be comfortable with just holding hands. It would be a long time before the laws would change and it would be even longer before society’s views would change. Louis hoped that he lived long enough to see the world change, leaving him unshackled and proud.

 

The five of them were walking back to the van when they spotted a clothes shop, “You know, we’re running kind of low on warm clothes,” Liam said tentatively, putting his hands in his pockets and toeing a loose stone on the ground.

“Liam, we don’t have enough – oh,” Louis said with a slow smile, “Liam you naughty boy,” the boy in question just shrugged, looking nervously at the store.

“Not like you haven’t done it before, you little thief,” Niall said, tapping the front of Liam’s jeans in reminder. Liam blushed. “Let’s go then,” the blonde said, leading them all into the shop.

Casually, the boys browsed the aisles. Harry flirted with the attendant, keeping her attention on him. Louis was glaring and he didn’t realise until Zayn nudged his shoulder, “cool it, babes,” he whispered on his way past. Louis looked at Zayn curiously, who just shrugged lazily, “you’re both kind of obvious when drunk,” Louis wanted to ask Zayn more, wanted to see just how much he had figured out but Niall was coughing to get their attention back on the job.

In the end, they managed to swipe four winter coats, a couple of leather jackets, a pair of cowboy boots (Niall: “George thinks they’re cool”) and a ladies long dress (Zayn: “for Harry”). They would have taken more but a few people entered the shop and Harry was starting to lose the attendant’s attention.

Sitting in the van, Niall was sliding on his new cowboy boots and saying, “When we get rich and famous, we should come back and pay them properly,” the rest of the boys nodded in agreement but Louis couldn’t help but notice the ‘when’ in Niall’s comment. The boy’s undying optimism was inspiring for Louis. Whenever Niall spoke about their future, he always spoke like it was always going to be them five and they were always going to make it big.

Louis put his arm around Niall’s shoulders and squeezed tight, “That’s a great idea,” he said with a smile, pinching the boy’s cheek with his other hand.


	21. Chapter 21

John was having a good day. He sent letters to his friends and family back at home.

John sent a letter to Mimi and his sisters, slipping them some money that he hoped would do them some good. He spoke about what a wonderful time he was having, he told them that he missed them and wished he could see them again. John knew that his aunt would think it was all bullshit, but in that moment John meant it. He also sent a letter to Cynthia. He told her that he planned on being a good father and a good husband. He told her that he was going to try his best to support them all. John told her he loved her, and he meant it, for the most part.

John was kind to his band mates. He complimented Ringo’s drumming abilities, sitting with the boy and playing his guitar next to him. He told George that his new song was good enough to be on their debut album, making George light up like a fucking Christmas tree. He didn’t talk to Paul. Not at first.

Stu arrived backstage, waltzing in while wearing his sunglasses and a suit that Astrid probably picked out for him. Stu looked like he always did; thin and delicate with an aura of cool that John was always drawn to. John hadn’t seen Stu for weeks, not since their fight, but seeing him again brought back the memories of their good times together. John pulled the smaller boy into his arms and gave him a friendly slap on the back.

John knew why Stu was here, even before Stu said anything about it. They started talking about Cynthia and Astrid but eventually Stu said it, said what John was dreading from the moment they arrived in Hamburg and he saw the wanderlust in Stu’s eyes, “I’m going to stay,” he said, “I enrolled in an arts college here, I’m studying painting,”

John thought that he would be more upset; he thought that he would be angry and disappointed. The small boy was smiling up at him, eyes filled with hopes and dreams for the future and John was honestly happy for him. John would miss him like fuck, but this was obviously something that Stu wanted to do.

“Paul never liked me much,” Stu commented, looking over at the boy in question. John looked over to see Paul watching curiously and chuckled to himself, thinking that Paul probably never liked Stu because he liked John a little too much.

“Paul’s a dick,” John shrugged, turning his back on his band mate again.

Stu laughed and shook his head, “No he isn’t, just possessive,” the boy observed, still eyeing Paul in the corner, “You suit each other,” he said and John tried really hard not to read too much into that statement. Stu was crafty bastard but he probably didn’t _know_. But then John had always seen Stu watching him and Paul with interest when they were together. John always felt like he was doing the wrong thing in those moments, but Stu never said anything, and John trusted him to never say anything ever.

John hugged Stu again and the artsy git left, leaving John and Paul alone. John was completely prepared to ignore and avoid the other boy, but that idea was shattered, when the beautiful bastard put a hesitant but strong hand on his shoulder, “Are we okay?” Paul asked and John wanted to laugh in his face for asking such a sappy question.

“I suppose so,” John said, shrugging Paul’s hand off and pulling his guitar from its case.

John sensed that Paul was determined, could feel the boy coming after him, probably eyeing him like a predator, “You know, if we get real famous, we’d have to be more careful about hiding and whatever,” Paul said. John tensed and resisted turning around and punching Paul in the face for bringing that all up _now_ , “we could, you know –” Paul broke off, walking around so that he was standing in front of John, facing him, “I can be very discreet,”

“This isn’t the time to talk about this,” John whispered harshly, turning his back on the boy and sitting on a chair nearby. John should leave the room, he wanted to, but maybe he was a little curious about Paul’s suggestion. John felt ripples of excitement of the thought of having Paul naked and spread out on a bed. John even wondered whether Paul would like being tied up.

“When will it be time John?” Paul asked, obviously getting frustrated and impatient.

John knew that he had to play this well. He knew that Paul could easily find other men to fulfil his needs and the thought of that made John’s skin crawl. He also knew that it wouldn’t last, it couldn’t possibly. As hard as it would be for John to say no now, he knew that further down the track that giving up Paul would be difficult, “okay,” John said, still not looking up.

“Okay?” Paul asked and John knew that the boy needed reassurance.

John looked him in the eye, “Okay,” he said, his stomach a fluttering mess of butterflies. His heart was beating double-time and he was nervous and excited all at once.

Paul smiled and _fuck_ the boy really was beautiful, “If we do this, I want it to be just us,” Paul said “You can have as much snatch as you want but your arse is all mine,”

John huffed, “What makes you think I’d let you go anywhere near _my_ arse?”

Paul knelt down in front of John so he was below John’s eye level, “Because it would be such a waste for it to go on extended disuse,” he tutted as put his hands on John thighs, making him jump a little.

“What about your arse?” John questioned, raising an eye brow.

“It’s all yours Johnny,” Paul whispered in a husky voice staring sultrily up at John. John felt so aroused by one stupid look that he would slap the kid if he had a spare hand.

“Only mine?” John asked.

“Only yours,” Paul said with a definite nod. John wanted to kiss Paul but knew that they already looked suspicious if someone walked in. Paul was on his knees between John’s legs with his hands braced on John’s thighs. They must look quite a picture.

“I split with Dot,” Paul added, as if it were an afterthought, “once I realised she wasn’t pregnant, my feelings for her sort of faded,” John wished he had that luxury and, yeah, he would always hate the boy a little for getting off lucky.

John was about to reply but Paul must have a heard a shuffle of footsteps because he swiftly stood up. Their other band mates ambled into the room a few moments later. For the rest of their time backstage, John was kind to them all. Even though they all knew that it was only temporary, something would surely set him off again in the future, something always did, but for now he was happy and calm.

 

“Not so hard!” Ringo was shouting in the corner after Harry hit the drums particularly hard. Ringo snatched the sticks out of the boy’s hand and wacked him over the head with them. Harry was laughing the whole time, clearly enjoying himself.

It was the early hours of the morning. There were no more gigs that night and everyone had gone home. Well, everyone except John, his band mates and One Direction. It all started with a question (George: “why don’t you play your own instruments?” Louis: “we’re not very good,” John: “at least you know,”) and then a challenge (Louis: “fuck you, I bet we could,” John: “alright pop star, let’s see than shall we?”) and then add in some alcohol and – _voila!_ – the air was filled with ill-timed drums and misjudged strumming.

Ringo was teaching Harry how to play drums, Niall and George teamed up to teach Liam guitar, John was sitting with Zayn at the piano while Paul was sitting with Louis and a pair of bass guitars. John noticed that the two were getting along better. There was a lingering tension in the air that crackled like an electric fence that had been switched off but was still cooling down.

After a few hours, John thought that the boys weren’t bad but they weren’t exactly good either. There was potential there, but it all depended on whether this was something that One Direction were going to take seriously and keep working towards and improving.

The bands spent a lot of their time together teaching and learning from each other and the last few days in Hamburg slid by, languorous and bittersweet.


	22. Chapter 22

Louis was tired. He had been awake for the past three days, and before that he only managed to get a mere two or three hours in. During that time, he had consumed more prellies than he could count. Thankfully it was getting to the end of their time in Hamburg and he was relieved, One Direction only had one more night left.

It was going to be a long night. They had three two hour blocks but it was all that was standing between him and a good long rest. Louis tipped out a handful of prellies that he nicked out of Zayn’s back pocket and swallowed them all dry.

Six hours, he thought, he could do six hours.

After a few minutes on stage, Louis felt light-headed and he couldn’t quite keep his balance. He knew that he was leaning a little too heavily on his mic stand. Louis felt rundown and so so tired, he was starting to get upset that the prellies weren’t working. Maybe he fucked up because of all the drinks he downed an hour ago. Maybe they were making him feel tired.

It got to Louis’ solo and he realised that he couldn’t do it, he leaned fully against the mic stand and felt his body give out from under him. He felt exhausted as he laid on the stage and let his heavy eye lids close.

Louis had passed out.

*

Harry was watching Louis all night, watching as he drank more alcohol than usual. He knew that the boy hadn’t been sleeping a lot, none of them were sleeping much but Louis didn’t seem to sleep _at all_. Harry wanted to comfort the boy but they had a performance, their last performance, and he had hoped that Louis could make it through the night.

Harry watched in horror while Louis collapsed. He was standing on the far side of the stage but he got to the boy before the others did, shoving everyone aside while he ran. Harry was crouching down, pulling at Louis’ shoulder to get him to roll onto his side, “Call an ambulance!” Harry shouted, fear rising in his chest as he stared down at the boy who didn’t even seem to be breathing, “Somebody call a FUCKING ambulance!” Harry shouted, pushing the people who tried to get closer away. He wished that the other people would just leave and do something useful. Harry held Louis’ hand and pushed aside the boy’s fringe, “Louis? Louis? Can you hear me? Stay with me! What the fuck did you take? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU TAKE?” he was opening Louis’ mouth and considered sticking his fingers down there to make the boy vomit.

Louis couldn’t die. Harry wouldn’t let him. He held the boy’s hand tighter, ignoring how cold the boy’s skin felt already.

*

Zayn stepped forward, he was shaking all over. His mind was racing and there was a sick churning feeling in his stomach. He knelt down next to Harry, avoiding being shoved back, “He’s been taking prellies,” Zayn said, his voice frantic and broken, “I thought he could handle them, I told him not to take too many,”

Harry looked up at Zayn and the boy flinched backwards at the expression on Harry’s face. Harry was angry, his face was screwed up in disgust and revulsion as he spat, “You’ve been feeding him drugs?”

“He said he needed them,” Zayn said defensively, looking down at Louis’ body. Oh fuck, was he dead?

“If he said he needed to see the insides of his veins would you give him a razor?” Harry barked, shoving Zayn away, “Get the fuck away from him,” Zayn held his ground, he wasn’t going anywhere.  

Niall crouched down on the other side of the distressed boy, “Harry, Harry, focus on Louis, okay? Focus on Louis,” the boy nodded, holding Louis’ hand to his chest and whispering nonsense into the boy’s ear. Harry was crying messily, tears and snot were dribbling down his chin and the sounds he made were fucking awful.

“Thanks man,” Zayn murmured to Niall.

The blonde boy just looked at him, “I love you mate, but you should probably get out of the way for a bit, yeah?” and Zayn knew that Niall was right, “There’s nothing you can do for him now,” Niall said, looking at him gently.

Zayn stood up and walked away. He stumbled out of the club and felt the cold air of the night punch him in the face. He wanted to light a cigarette but his hands were shaking too much. Instead, he walked two paces and vomited into a bush nearby. His entire body was trembling with the realisation that he might have just killed his best friend.

*

John was frozen as he watched Louis fall in almost slow motion. The boy collapsed the way John had seen so many people collapse and never get up from. There was fear. John remembered this kind of fear. It was fear like back when Louis and he were in the alley way. It was a fear of death, not his own death this time, but still fear of death.

John had overheard the argument between Harry and Zayn and followed the leather-clad boy outside. Zayn stumbled for a bit before he was sick into the shrubbery nearby. John walked up behind him, not even giving the boy a chance to catch his breath, and took hold of the boy’s collar, yanking him back up into a standing position.

John listened in disgust as the boy tried to breathe and sob at the same time, “If he dies, it’s all on you,” he said, before shoving the boy to his knees again.

John walked away.

*

Harry was in the hospital waiting room. Liam and Niall were sitting either side of him and Zayn was nowhere to be found. Harry had caught sight of John standing near the entrance of the hospital. Harry wanted to pull John inside and tell the boy that he deserved to be in here too but he didn’t want to move.

*

Zayn didn’t know where he was and he didn’t care to know. He walked the streets alone, his entire body was numb. He just wished that his brain was too, so that it would stop thinking.

*

Through the glass window, John saw a doctor talk to Harry and he watched on as the curly boy burst into tears and fall to the floor.

 _Oh no, oh no no no no_.


	23. Chapter 23

It was raining in England.

John was slowly putting on the same suit that he had worn to his uncle’s funeral, to his mother’s funeral and now… now to his third funeral. John wondered if he was some sort of harbinger for death. It seemed like there was a curse on the lives of all the people around him.

John was trying hard not to cry as he left the house.

The graveyard was cold. There was a lake nearby and a freezing wind was being blown across it, stirring the grass and the leaves between the graves nearby. The rain had subsided only marginally, enough for John to make out the sound of the priest’s voice. Not that John even cared to pay attention to the words. He was staring at the coffin.

John could hear people all around him sobbing quietly. He didn’t look up though, he didn’t know who else was at the funeral and he didn’t really care to know. His band mates weren’t there, he knew that. The fucking cowards. John was there though, that was all that mattered.

The priest stopped talking and the coffin started to descend. John didn’t really want to watch this part, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. John wanted to cry or scream or make some sort of noise but it was like his vocal chords were frozen with the cold, frozen with the grief, the aftershock.

The coffin slipped out of sight and John couldn’t watch anymore. He turned and hurried away from the gaping hole that was now swallowing up another person from his life, taking them from him forever. This was why John felt like he couldn’t have important people in his life; it hurt too much when they left.

In his haste, John stumbled over a branch and wacked his head on the edge of a gravestone, “ _fuck!_ ” John howled, rolling onto his back and rubbing his forehead. He started crying then and not just because he fell. He was finally crying for all the people that he had lost. John cried for his uncle and his mother and now Stu.

“I’ll fucking miss ya Stu,” John mumbled through his sobs. He slowly got up onto his knees and then folded back in on himself, making his body as small as possible. There was mud all around John and he was drenched from the rain but he didn’t feel like moving. John didn’t feel like doing anything. That didn’t stop the thoughts though.

John clearly remembered Astrid’s face when she told him that Stu had been rushed to hospital and had died soon after. A fucking brain haemorrhage, the prick had been complaining to Astrid about a headache for weeks but the bastard didn’t do anything about it. And now he was dead.

John knew that people died every day but he felt like it was incredibly unfair and cruel when that person was only young. Stu had his entire fucking life spread out before him and now he was lying in a box and being buried in the dark. Life was fucking shite.


	24. Chapter 24

Louis awoke with a mop of curly hair in his face and sneezed.

“Louis?” A broken voice said. Louis shifted a little to see that it was Harry. Harry was in his bed, curled around him and holding him around the waist, “You’re alive, you’re awake!” Harry said, excitement pouring into his voice, a look of relief overtaking his worried features, “Let me just get out of here,” Harry said awkwardly, moving to get off of Louis.

Louis held the boy into him and muffled a petulant, “no!” as he rubbed his nose against Harry’s cheek. The boy giggled and squirmed against him.

Harry rested his chin against Louis’ chest and looked up at him shyly, “I burst into tears once I knew that you were going to be okay,” Harry shifted so he was pressing his cheek against Louis’ stomach, “I scared John though, he thought I was crying because we lost you,”

“John here?” Louis asked, looking around the room. To be honest, he was still a little bit confused about what had happened. He remembered performing and then falling and then nothing.

Harry sat up, straddling Louis’ hips as he did so, “Stu died Louis,” he said seriously, looking down at the boy.

“What?” Louis exclaimed as he gripped the boy’s thighs, “How’d that happen?”

“Brain haemorrhage. John went home for the funeral. Poor kid, abandoned by his father, lost his uncle, mother and now one of his best mates,” Harry commented sadly.

“How long have I been out for?” Louis asked, still looking around the room and wondering why no one was around. The curtains were closed and it was very dark, perhaps it was night time?

“They stabilised you the same day you were brought in, but you’ve been asleep for about a week,” Harry said, making Louis open his mouth in shock, “I suppose your body needed the recovery time,” the boy said, as he shuffled back down so that he could wrap his long limbs around Louis.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Louis asked curiously, rubbing circles into the boy’s warm back and feeling his heart grow at the devotion of his best mate.

Louis felt Harry nod against him, “I sleep here,” he said through a yawn, “back to sleep now, it’s late,” he said, squeezing Louis tight one last time and then relaxing into his slumber.

Louis was about to nod off too when he saw a movement near the door, his eyes sprang open again. It was Zayn. There were tears in his eyes and he looked like a wreck. He walked over to the bed and stood near the side where Harry wasn’t, “I’m sorry man, I’m so fucking sorry,”

Louis silenced Zayn by putting his finger against the boy’s lips, “I took the damn pills. It’s my own fault. You warned me not to take too many, and I did,” Louis would have hugged the boy if he could detach himself from the one wrapped around him, “I don’t blame you, and if anyone does then I’ll give them a right talking to,” Louis smiled, slapping the boy’s cheek lightly with his free hand.

“I love you,” Zayn said, taking Louis’ hand and entwining their fingers.

“I love you too, mate,” Louis said with a smile.

Zayn leaned down to kiss Louis’ forehead and then pulled back, “I better go before I wake up your guard dog,” he said, staring warily down at Harry.

“Don’t worry about him,” Louis said, “I can handle Harry,”

“I’m sure you can,” Zayn said with a wink and a cheeky grin as he slipped out of the room. Louis smiled to himself as he fell asleep.

 

George, Ringo and Paul visited Louis before they left Hamburg to head back to Liverpool. Louis hugged them all and wished them well. While George and Ringo chatted to the rest of the boys Paul took Louis aside, “John mentioned you in a letter,” the Beatle said casually, hands in his pockets, “he hopes you’re doing good,”

Louis smiled, “Tell him I’m gonna be okay,” he said, knowing that it would be a long time before he saw John again. Louis wanted to tell Paul to look after John but he thought that Paul already would. Louis hoped that the pair would find some sort of solace in each other.

George, Ringo and Paul left soon after and just like that The Beatles and One direction went their separate ways. Of course, they’d all see each other again in a few years’ time, but it wouldn’t be inside some shitty pub and they wouldn’t be staying in crappy hotels. By the time they meet again, they would be stepping off stadium stages, dining with the rich and famous and sleeping luxuriously on silk sheets.

In other words, they would see each other again once they each reached the toppermost of the poppermost.


	25. Chapter 25

**Epilogue**

**London, England (1967)**

“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine,” John smirked as he heard a startlingly good Bogart impression from down the other end of the bar.

“Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” John countered as Louis moved down the bar and slid into the seat next to John.

Louis ordered them both a drink, “We had that beginning a long time ago,” he said, sipping his pint as he looked up at John through his eye lashes.

It had been five years since John had last seen Louis in person. John had seen a few photographs in the papers here and there but he knew that a picture would never capture the boy correctly. And John was right. It seemed that age had served Louis very well. The boy no longer looked soft, he looked like a man, he had chiselled cheekbones and he was unshaven in a scruffy but strangely elegant way. There were still similarities of course, Louis still had that same devious glint in his eye and a mischievous quirk to his lips, time had not yet crushed the rascal out of him.

They got drunk together.

Moving away from the bar, they stumbled into a dark alcove that was mostly out of sight from the patrons. John found that he had to resist the temptation in grabbing hold of Louis and taking him to a more private setting. John had Paul for things like that, he had kept his promise to the boy. Well, except for that one hand-job in Spain from Brian, but he felt bad for the ponce and Paul needn’t find out about that.

Louis spoke about how much harder it was to be gay ever since his band became ridiculously famous, “I’m lucky I’ve got Harry,” he said, smiling dopily and John wondered how this bloke managed to contain himself around the boy that he was completely stupid for.

John nodded, “I’m lucky I’ve got Paul,” and that was all he said on the matter. Louis shared an understanding smile.

Louis spoke about how One Direction were playing their own instruments now. However, they still kept a band with them for those moments when they just wanted to hold a microphone. Louis talked about his boys, “Zayn and Perrie got married; we’re all rooting for them. Liam’s dating again, an old school mate, she’s lovely. Harry’s been keeping his head down recently, we both have. The rumour’s get a little out of control sometimes and our team’s been pestering me about getting a _girl_ friend,” John remembered reading something about a ‘lucky lady’ in Louis’ life, he had laughed at the time, not realising that it was a cruel deflective tactic set by his team, “And Niall’s Niall, you know,” Louis chuckled to himself, “the kid never slows down, just smashes through life like a hurricane,” John had actually seen Niall quite a bit over the years. The Irishman and George hung out quite a lot when they weren’t working or spending time with family and close friends.

“Has he got anyone pregnant yet?” John joked.

“Not that we know of,” Louis said keeping it light. He asked about Julian, cleverly skirting around the topic of his own divorce from Cynthia, and asked about his sisters and aunt. The pair of them chatted for hours. It was like meeting an old friend. John supposed that they were old friends.

Eventually the conversation started to die off and John was starting to feel a little drowsy. When John made to stand up and say his goodbye, Louis took out a pen from his pocket and started scribbling on the back of a coaster, “I don’t want your autograph mate,” John joked.

Louis’ mouth quirked into a smile as he wrote, “Call me, yeah?” he said as he slipped the bit of cardboard across the table, “We should all jam together, be like old times.”

John couldn’t control the grin that broke out on his face as he lifted the coaster from the table, “Yeah, like old times,” John said, briefly wondering how much like the old times was Louis talking about. In the end they hugged and went their separate ways again, the paper in John’s pocket a heavy reminder of his past and a promise for the future.

The Beatles and One Direction would be reunited again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, if you followed the story the whole way through.   
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> And thank you so much for helping me edit this, you know who you are, sorry for bombarding you with gay porn over the past month (and prior lol)!!


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